


for me, for you

by atoriv



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Gen, Kingdom Hearts III Spoilers, Written before the DLC, relevant characters will be added as i go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2020-05-14 08:11:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 73,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19269238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atoriv/pseuds/atoriv
Summary: Xion awakens in a place much like the one she fled over a year ago, with missing memories and people she wished to abandon around her.Saïx wishes to right his wrongs, but it is all much harder than he expected, in ways he thought impossible.





	1. I. Revival

**Author's Note:**

> this is all written with akusai/leaisa in mind, but you can very much ignore it if you choose, the romantic aspect not something i plan to focus on that much! it's minor enough that i'm hesitant in tagging it at all jkhgkfdh.... if i change my mind about how minor it is, i'll add the tag once it actually appears in the fic.
> 
> character wise, i'll add their tags whenever they get roles that involve more than just speaking a few lines of dialogue. xemnas says very little in this chapter, but he's like, relevant, yknow, so hes tagged. a certain ceiling man will join him there once i get to post chapter 3 :^)
> 
> as for warnings, not many come to mind. some descriptions of emotions(/memories of emotions lmao) get a bit unpleasant, but that's about it.
> 
> i'll update... whenever i am one chapter ahead :') this is turning out to be very long, and i don't want to commit to any schedule, as i'm not used to big writing projects!  
> that said! please enjoy.
> 
> also i might change the title. i'm very indecisive and failed to think of a good one in the days i've been writing this for. oops!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She awakens.

When he sees the mannequin-like body transform, then move, his breath catches in his throat and there is a pressure around his chest he thought he had forgotten how to feel. He clenches his jaw and keeps quiet, moving his gaze to Xemnas. He hears his signature low chuckle and lets out a quiet, but deep breath of his own. He blinks once, then twice, keeping his eyes closed for longer this time, then lets his shoulders fall before the man can turn away from the puppet and to him again.

“You can show it the ropes, yes?” Says Xemnas, and on his face there is a smile that Saïx can’t quite place. He’s not sure if it reaches his eyes.

He keeps quiet and nods, aware of his current state. Years of experience had taught him that when his will wasn’t strong enough to make his words convincing, silence was his best ally.

It had never failed him before, and it didn’t fail him now. Xemnas gives him a nod of his own and leaves the laboratory with quiet footsteps. Saïx looks at nowhere in particular as the sound fades, and fades, until it is gone completely. From his other side, he hears cloth shift, and though the  _ thing, _ whatever it is, tormenting him only gets stronger at the thought of it, he turns to its source.

He sees what he expected, someone too small for a place like this, with her face obscured by shadow. He can’t see her eyes, but there’s still something piercing him. He doesn’t remember this.

“You…” She whispers, her voice  _ painfully  _ small, and Saïx finds it hard to breathe.

_ Why does this… hurt? _

His eyes narrow at his own thoughts. This isn’t hurt, something like him isn’t capable of it. This is a memory, one he had perhaps forgotten.

_ It’s not supposed to hurt. _

“I’ll guide you,” he says, none of the pain showing in his voice. He turns away from Xion with an unnecessary urgency, and starts making his way to the door as well, hoping she would follow him.

“Saïx?”

If what he had been feeling in his chest was an uncomfortable pressure before, hearing his name felt like a hammer to his thorax. He stops, he  _ freezes  _ , like a deer in headlights, and keeps quiet. He doesn’t turn to look at her.

“Is that your name?” She asks, oblivious, not a hint of resentment in her voice.

“Yes.”

A few tiny footsteps get closer to him.

“Why do I know that?”

He feels her gaze on his back, from eyes he has never seen, and it feels like a needle piercing through him. He bites the inside of his mouth hard, but the needle turns into a knife, and he turns to her to make it stop.

“It’ll be explained in time,” he says, looking down at her.

_ She’s so small. _

A frown reaches his face despite his best efforts. Even with the unnaturally strong shadow, he can vaguely see the shape of her round face, and how her mouth thins when he stares for too long. She brings her hands together, and considers taking a step back, before Saïx shakes his head and looks away again, shutting his eyes.

“Come,” he says, turning away again, this time walking faster, afraid she will say anything else.

She doesn’t, and follows.

_ She’s just a child. _


	2. II. New life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saïx introduces Xion to life, again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can have chapter 2 to start with too, since 1 is so short :^)
> 
> i think the concept of the new organization using a CTNW-like building in the kg as its base is pretty amusing so. it's here now. the castle that maybe was  
> forgive the silly concept and please just roll with it  
> in my defense? xehanort would totally do this

The man in front of her, Saïx, spares her no words, or even a glance, while she follows him through a place that feels both eerily familiar and foreign at the same time. The sunlight shines through, reflecting against the white of the floors so strongly it blinds her. Looking at the source of it, the outside, reveals to her a view she’s never seen before. A deep orange stretches as far as the eye can see, with a few rocks scattered throughout. It is beautiful, in a way, how it contrasts with the deep blue of the sky, but it carries a sorrow with it. The image is pretty, but it has no life in it.

The melancholy pushes her gaze away from the windows they walk by, but looking at the person in front of her is hardly an improvement when it comes to positivity. In fact, the small glimpses of his face she caught while they made turns showed no emotion whatsoever, though it is hard to read his feelings when he refuses to even look at her general direction. A subtle frown forms on her face, as she turns her attention inward, seeing as it isn’t welcome elsewhere.

_I know him._

That much was clear, she knows Saïx and his yellow eyes and the scar on his face, though she doesn’t know how. He doesn’t seem inclined to explain, and she wonders if that is related to how she feels when she sees him. When he stared at her, with those golden eyes that almost seem to glow with malice, she recalled countless times when it had happened before. The memories are all blurred together, and she doesn’t know when they happened, but he stared at her in every single one of them, sometimes from a corner of a room with glass walls and a pitch black sky behind them, sometimes towering over her, saying _something_ , something she can’t remember, but something she hates.

The look he shot her minutes ago wasn’t as hateful as previous ones, she could tell that much. He was quiet as he always was, but there were thoughts, and not pure negative emotion, behind the frown he gave her. What those thoughts were, though, it is beyond her, and she knows Saïx will not explain.

Still, being around him makes her unable to sit still. She wants to fidget with her hands, hair, or put more distance between them to avoid the problem entirely, but he is the only fragment of certain familiarity she has in here.

He stops walking, and it takes her a second to notice, and she brakes when she does, and takes a few steps back for good measure; if there was anything Xion knew with certainty, it was that bumping into him wasn’t a good idea.

Saïx almost turns his head to her, as if for a moment he’d forgotten that he was avoiding doing that exact thing, but stops and looks away again, keeping quiet for a few seconds, then extending his hand forwards. A portal opens in front of him, and he enters it without a word, and she follows suit.

_The dark corridors._

She remembers them: convenient ways of transportation only certain people could use. They often utilized them to transport themselves to mission locations easily.

_...Missions?_

Her eyebrows furrow again and she looks down as more memories light up in her head in a chain reaction. She used to be part of an organization, where they carried out missions to complete something. Saïx was part of that organization. Was he, still? He is wearing the same cloak they all did back then. In fact, so is she.

“Are we still in the organization?” She asks, careful, looking intently at his head in hopes of catching a reaction if he turns to her.

Which he does, the slightest amount. His hair covers the better part of his profile, but she can see him looking down for a moment, still not meeting her eyes, before looking ahead again.

“Not in the one you knew,” he says, “but one with many of the same people.”

Her eyes light up at the answer.

“Which people?”

Xion isn’t sure what answer she’s looking for, but the thought of getting it is enough to make her speed up for a few steps so she is next to him. He glances at her in surprise, eyes widening in a manner she doesn’t think she’s seen before, before he turns his head to the other side again.

“Many of the same,” he repeats.

Xion bites the inside of her mouth and gives him a frown that he doesn’t react to. Her hands curl into fists and she feels, slowly but strongly, a hole forming in her. There’s something missing, _someone, people_ she misses.

Her attention moves to a generic point in the endless darkness, and she tries to remember them. They joked together, she recalls holding something that was a pale blue in her hands, and she remembers a clock tower. A sunset in the horizon, breathtaking not only through its beauty but also because of what it had come to mean for them. An escape, a place that was only theirs.

The memory would make her smile, if she could remember them.

_One was tall and lanky, one was my height. He… They were… guys, I think._

A panic creeps inside her head, and it grows and spreads like smoke, clouding her other thoughts; she wants her friends, who are they? She had friends, she _has_ friends. She has friends.

“Saïx?” She says, a decibel lower than usual, and stops walking entirely, staring at her gloved hands.

He stops as well, and turns his head to her.

“Are my friends here?” She asks, “In this organization.”

Saïx then turns his entire body to her, facing her for the first time since they entered the corridors. His face shows little, but she can tell it isn’t completely void of a reaction, though trying to read his thoughts is like trying to read in a language she barely recognizes. He lets out a sigh, his shoulders lower, and while he stays quiet she can’t help but notice that even then, he’s not looking at her eyes. It’s a strange sensation, he looks at her face but not _really,_ as if there’s glass in front of her and he’s looking at it, instead of her, but there isn’t anything between them. Why does his gaze feel so unfocused, then?

“No,” is all he says. His eyes drifts to the side, but he doesn’t turn away.

“Oh…” Her heart drops and she feels her strength leave her. She retreats to the memory of the sunset again, trying to remember the blurred shapes she _knows_ are people, but like she was stuck in a dream back then, everything feels faint, the tower itself is vague, the town below them barely coherent, and her friends’ forms fade in and out, as if this was an amalgamation of many days, some where all three of them were there, some where only two were, and some where she was alone.

“Did they leave…?” She asks, refraining from completing was her true question was.

_Did they leave me?_

“I…” He speaks up, but drifts off, and it catches her attention enough to make her eyes snap back up to him. She can see, in the expression he’s trying to hide by looking to the side, a vulnerability she thought he was incapable of. He is unsure of something, but there’s something else. Something similar to sorrow, regret, perhaps, though what he regretted was a mystery.

She takes a step to the side, trying to follow his eyes. Her sudden movement, combined with his current state, is enough to make him turn to her again, as involuntarily as it might have been. He looks at her, at the glass, again, and his eyes are unsure if they want to stay on her or on the floor. He closes them, takes a small breath, and Xion watches fascinated. The yellow greets her again and it’s her turn to avoid it.

“You could say they left,” he says, his voice louder than it needed to be, snapping her gaze back to him, “Though not at the same time, and not in ordinary circumstances.”

He opens his mouth again to continue, but stops himself from doing so. She tilts her head at that.

“Where… are they?”

It takes him a few seconds to respond.

“I don’t know, far from here.”

As much as she hates to admit it, he sounds genuine. She keeps quiet, retreating to her memories again, and Saïx takes her silence as a cue to continue walking. She follows, again, silent, observing him as she does so.

The Saïx she just spoke to goes against everything her short amount of memories tells her about him. That moment of doubt she witnessed is unlike anything she’s ever seen from him, and she doesn’t know what it means. How long had she been gone for? What happened? She considers voicing her questions, but he opens another portal and, before she can say anything, steps through it. She, again, does the same.

The landscape that greets them is the same as the one she saw through the windows. Orange, barren and dead.

Saïx takes a few steps forward, and scans his surroundings for a moment before noticing something sitting on the top of the many rocks scattered around the place. He walks to it, and Xion can’t tell from her position what it is and, while she squints at it, he takes it into his hand and lifts it up to get a good look at it. The bright light from the sun reflects on the blade of what Xion can briefly identify as a sword, and in the moment Saïx tilts it in his hand, said light goes directly on her face.

“Ah--!” She is quick to raise her hand to shield her eyes, but is half of a second too late, and the sharp pain she briefly feels in her pupil makes that clear enough.

Saïx lowers the blade and turns to her with his eyes wide. She rubs her eye as the pain dissipates, and he looks at her with an expression she can’t quite place.

It’s a bit funny.

She lets out a small giggle before she can stop herself, and then rushes to cover her mouth. Fear takes her momentarily, but his lack of verbal response, combined with how quick he was to turn away from her, was enough to soothe her worries.

_Is he embarrassed?_

“Can you summon your Keyblade?” He asks, looking at her again, pretending none of the previous five seconds ever happened.

She pauses, and looks at her hand. Her Keyblade… the memory of it comes back faster than any other. With her arm stretched forward, she closes her eyes and thinks about it, imagining it in her hands, and she can almost feel the handle touching her palm.

But nothing comes.

She opens her eyes, looks at her palm, and feels her lungs close up. Curling up her other hand into a ball, with her nails digging through the fabric of her gloves, she tries again: reaches her right hand forwards, thinks of her weapon, but once again, it refuses to come. Xion wavers, letting her arm fall to her side, and staring at the ground.

_Why won’t it come?_

She feels restless, her mind screaming that this is bad, it’s bad and it’s happened before, and her head snaps up to look at Saïx, who greets her with his usual emotionless face. Her instincts are telling her to run, but she doesn’t understand why.

“So?” He inquires, tilting his his head upwards to emphasize the question, a frown Xion can’t read reaching his face.

She breathes in, and out, and in, and out, and speaks up.

“It won’t come.”

Her voice is quiet, she doesn’t want to hear it herself, and Saïx lacks much reaction.

“We figured it was a possibility,” he says.

He takes a few steps forward, examining the sword in his hands before he stops a small distance from her. He offers it to her, and she stares at it for a moment. It has a simple design; its handle blending with its blade in an uniform silver color, with a blue line running through the middle of it. Its length is around the length of her Keyblade.

“This was provided by the organization,” he says, “so you may fight without your weapon.”

She blinks, and takes it from his hand. He’s uncharacteristically gentle about it, pushing it into her hand and waiting until she fully wraps her fingers around it before stepping back. Xion looks at it in her grasp, then at him, tilting her head.

“What am I… supposed to fight?”

“Right now?” He says, and snaps his fingers.

She turns around to the sound of three Shadows materializing, and like she was never gone, she readies her stance and leans forwards, grasping her weapon with intensity. It was lighter than her Keyblade, and its handle was thinner, but it was better than nothing. Shadows are beneath her when it comes to combat, and she knows it: darting around them landing hits before they can realize what’s happening comes naturally. It takes a few blows for them to go down, but she finishes them off without breaking a sweat.

She twirls the blade around for a moment, testing its weight, and then turns to Saïx. He offers her only silence, and snaps his fingers again.

It takes her no time to notice the two Neo Shadows behind her. One of them lunges at her before she can turn, and she hops into the air, doing a long flip and looking down at it landing where she stood.

“Try using some magic,” Saïx orders.

“Right!”

She lands and the other heartless turns to her, its yellow eyes glowing against its shadowy form, and she extends her hands towards it.

“Fira!”

A thin line of fire shoots from her hand to it, and explodes inches away from its face. The heartless is shot up, and Xion sees is fade away as it falls back to the floor. Her attention snaps back down, and the remaining foe jumps through the dust and smoke, hands stretched towards her. Xion is quick to dodge, and a swift strike is enough to knock it back, allowing her to pierce its torso and watch it dissipate as well.

She waits for a moment before dropping her combat stance, turning to Saïx once again. He gives her a brief nod.

“Not bad,” he says.

Silence takes over the wasteland and she takes the opportunity to examine him once he looks at the surroundings again. His arms were crossed, his face was as blank as usual, but she felt little to no hostility coming from him. Unusual, but appreciated. Xion then turns her attention to her weapon again, staring at it in her hand. Her chest aches when she tightens her grip around it and feels exactly how different it is from her Keyblade, and she glaces at Saïx again, to be met with him staring at her. He says nothing.

“Will I ever get my Keyblade back?” She asks, against the better part of her brain screaming not to.

“It’s likely, yes,” he says, and with a gesture of his hand, opens another portal, “As you regain your memories.”

“Why am I missing memories anyway?” She starts following him into the portal, hurrying to his side. Saïx takes a moment to look at her before clenching his jaw. His hand is curled up at his side.

“You could say you’re incomplete,” he chooses his words carefully, and remains _painfully_ vague.

“...Will I be complete again?”

He keeps quiet, and speeds up. Xion bites her cheek at that, and quickens her pace herself, though his longer legs give him an unfair advantage. Still, she makes the effort to stay next to him, and to look at his face. If he won’t say the answers out loud, perhaps his expressions will give them to her.

“If you don’t know, just say so,” she throws the bait, and leans forward so his hair won’t block her view of his reaction.

She sees his eyes narrow, and he turns his head away from her, though not enough that it hides his face completely. He furrows his eyebrows, clenches and unclenches his jaw a few times, until he lets out a sigh, giving in to the pressure and looking at her.

_Still not looking at my eyes..._

Though it doesn’t feel strange. Was this… normal?

“You should learn to keep your questions to yourself.”

She frowns.

“Why?”

“The others here won’t take kindly to them,” he stops walking and crosses his arms, looking down at her with an annoyance that she knows well.

“But,” she stops for a moment, catching her voice rising, “You can answer them just fine.”

He raises an eyebrow at that.

“You’re not supposed to ask questions, you’re a puppet,” he says, flatly. It stings. The moment makes it clear this is not the first time she’s been called that, and she has a feeling it won’t be the last.

_He didn’t deny what I said, though._

“Sure, whatever,” it’s her turn to cross her arms, “Will I be complete again?”

He lets out a sharp breath through gritted teeth. Xion can’t help but smile. A little bit of contrarianism seems to be the way to go when it comes to him. There’s nothing stopping him from continuing to walk, but one wouldn’t guess it, from the way he keeps looking to the side like he desperately wants to escape the conversation, and yet refuses to, for reasons that Xion assumes include pride.

“If things go to plan,” he says, turning his eyes to her again with a hint of an annoyed scowl, “yes.”

She raises an eyebrow. He starts moving his leg to make a run for it, but a little hop to the side from Xion is all it takes to call his attention again.

“Whose plan? The organization’s?”

He looks at her with genuine confusion.

“No, of course not.”

“So?”

He closes his eyes, and lets out the biggest sigh so far.

“Mine,” he says.

Xion widens her eyes, though she’s starting to suspect he can’t see them, and has no response. She sees that hint of regret in his face again, in the way his eyelids drop while she looks at him, and how he presses his lips together. He drums his fingers against his leg.

“Others too, I suppose. Vexen, and… someone else, if he manages to convince him,” he says, his eyebrow twitching at the end of the sentence.

“Is this… treason?”

Betrayal and Saïx were not concepts that her mind could piece together. More memories flood back with the contradiction; she remembers him as the embodiment of the organization, the one that pushed others towards its goals and the one that threatened punishment when things went badly. The one that was the biggest threat, with the exception of Xemnas, who she now recalls was their leader. Still, Xemnas lurked in the shadows, he observed them.

Saïx was his executioner.

“It definitely, definitely is,” he admits, voice much lower than Xion is used to.

A confused smile tugs at the corners of her lips.

“Saïx, betraying the organization?” Her voice is perhaps too chirpy for the topic at hand.

“What of it?” He refuses to meet her gaze.

“It just sounds wrong.”

“Well,” he starts, and resumes walking, “keep quiet about it, or we will both be destroyed.”

She lets out a small giggle. Saïx looks the other way in a manner Xion would call flinching if she thought it made any sense. She hops to his side again with little effort, as his pace has slowed down significantly.

“Okay. Thank you.”

His head snaps away again, and she thinks she hears him mumble something. Xion doesn’t remember him being the kind of person to mumble.

She thinks she hears a “don’t”.


	3. III. Old guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xion sees snow for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick disclaimer to say that i am the kind of person that feels like im about to freeze when its 18C outside and have seen snow exactly once  
> if you read this and something sounds odd to you please forgive this hopeless brazilian and we'll get through it together

After leading Xion to her room, wherein he had left a diary for her for a reason that was beyond him, Saïx drags his own body to his own room. His chest hurts, it pounds with a pain that is unknown to him, worse than any wound he’s ever had. He thought he hated how empty it felt before, until it got filled with memories of longing, of excruciating nostalgia, and now it’s like he has weights on his shoulders that make it hard to breathe, let alone walk. Part of him wants the numbness back, part of him is disgusted to even think about it.

He’s never heard her laugh before. At least, he thinks he hasn’t, maybe he has and doesn’t remember because his brain poisoned the memory with shadows of jealousy, before corroding it and tossing it away entirely. He can hear the echo of his theoretical thoughts in the situation. A puppet, laughing? The concept itself is a joke, it’s ridiculous, none of them had the heart to laugh, let alone that _thing._

Hearing his brain parrot the things he had been thinking since her arrival up until his death so easily, it all made the knife in his chest twist.

It took him a life, a death, to really hear himself, it took him waking up only to die again, it took his heart overwhelming him enough in the brief moments he was Isa again that he woke up after having it ripped away from him as Saïx, remembering the pain in chest enough that it felt real, it took him all of that to hear himself calling a _child_ a mistake, a puppet, and the source of his problems.

The knife twists, and twists.

_It’s all just memories._

He stumbles over to his desk, where his own diary is, neatly closed with a pen next to it, ready to be victim of his thoughts, but his hands grasp the sides of the furniture instead of the pen. His body feels fragile, like wind could knock him over, and he can’t breathe, he can’t _breathe._

He can’t see her face, he didn’t think she was a person, and she is now laughing at him, _thanking_ him, thanking him for what? For doing the bare minimum, for trying to help a teenager that asked for _none_ of this out of this miserable place? Had everything really made her life so miserable that she wanted to thank him for doing something anyone should do?

Saïx feels his throat close up, and his knees give out under him. He slides to the floor and presses his forehead against the desk. His gloved hands still grip the sides of it, grasping for any sense of stability.

_Why does this hurt so much?_

Memories, memories, memories, he keeps repeating it to himself, but he can’t help but question _what_ memories are causing this. When did Isa ever feel even a fraction of this? When he awoke in Radiant Garden, perhaps, but he was still wracked with confusion and jealousy then, nothing compared to this, nothing compared to the way he felt the words “thank you” take him by the neck and strangle him until he was like _this,_ a miserable figure shaking like a newborn deer on the floor of his room.

He forces air into his lungs, and holds it in for a few seconds, then lets all of it out. He repeats the process a few times. His mind slows down, gradually, and he lets go of the desk, leaning back and sitting on the floor, letting his hands fall on his lap. He stares at them, gloved, hidden, biting the inside of his mouth.

_It’ll be fine once she remembers._

She’ll hate him then, and it’ll be fine.

Saïx pulls himself up, feeling himself twice as heavy, and his arms half as strong. He crawls up to his chair and once sat, glances at the diary, then at his right hand. He opens and closes it, cracking his knuckles when he does the latter, and finds it stable enough to hold a pen. As he reaches for it, he hears footsteps approaching and his head snaps to the door. Seconds later, there is a knock. He narrows his eyes, gets up, and walks towards it with composure that seemed like fantasy just two minutes prior.

The person who greets him is Xigbar, to his displeasure. He has some sort of paper in his hand. In fact, he has multiple.

“Yo!” Xigbar says, with his signature grin plastered on his face. “Boss asked me to tell you some stuff.”

Saïx wastes no time in crossing his arms and putting on his worst scowl.

“Since when are you his messenger?”

“Oh, we’re all very busy, sometimes someone’s gotta take one for the team,” he waves his hand in dismissal, “Wouldn’t you agree?”

He raises an eyebrow.

“I suppose.”

_What is he talking about?_

Xigbar lets out an infuriatingly cryptic laugh, and Saïx’s grip on his own arm tightens at the sound. He does his best to not let his annoyance show, but he knows Xigbar can smell irritation from a mile away like the most infuriating kind of predator seeking its next victim. He clenches his jaw, breathes in, and out, and speaks up.

“What do you have to say to me?”

Xigbar glances at a paper in his hand for a moment, before looking back at him

“You’re in a mission with Poppet tomorrow, in Arendelle, to watch the sister. And Xemnas wants you to keep an eye on our little replica, to prevent any... you know.”

“I don’t.”

He does, but he would rather die than play along with him. Xigbar leans back and crosses his arms himself.

“Y’know, don’t let her grow a personality and fly the coop again. We may have more people than needed but there’s no need to bother Xehanort with that.”

He doubts Xigbar cares much about Xehanort’s wellbeing, and he cares even less. Still, this place is filled with nothing but feigned loyalty coming from all sides, and Xigbar is no exception to that. Whatever his goal with it is, though, Saïx has no idea, and he realized long ago that trying to find out is a waste of energy.

“I thought that was a given,” he says, voice flat.

“You never know, with you!” Xigbar proclaims, shoves the sheet he read the mission off of earlier into Saïx's hands, then spins on his heel and starts making his way down the corridor.

“What…” Saïx stops himself.

Asking Xigbar for answers is like talking to a wall, he knows, and it’s exactly the kind of thing the man loves to milk for his own entertainment. Saïx promptly glares at him until he’s sure he won’t spout any more remarks and watches him disappear down the hallway, then shuts the door. The scowl doesn’t leave his face, and won’t for a while.

He looks down at the unwanted gift, and sees the details of his task, including directions and the names of the people the mission was assigned to. His eyes linger on those.

“...Xion.”

He softens when the name leaves his mouth.

 

The next day he goes to the meeting area earlier than he needs to. His shoulders still feel heavy and the thought of seeing her again is enough to bring back the pressure in his lungs, but trying to stay in his room made it all worse.

He had spent some minutes with his diary opened in front of him, trying to put what he was going through into words, but the blank page stared back at him and his hand refused to put ink to paper. He then tried to go back to bed, but he knew it was futile from the start; his brain just wouldn’t keep quiet. It wouldn’t in most circumstances, and it refused to fervently now. So he dragged himself here, where they were all assigned their missions.

He’s alone, for now, and stares at the graveyard outside.

That is, until he hears unmistakably tiny footsteps behind him. He turns, and Xion is there, looking around the room with curiosity. His breath gets stuck in his throat.

He thinks she notices him, and after a few seconds, it seems that she takes his silence as permission to snoop around. She looks at the couches spread around in a similar position where they were in The Castle That Never Was, and runs her hand though some of them, before glancing at the table. Xion looks around again, and he feels her invisible gaze on him for a moment, before she decides to sit down in the corner of one of the seats. She keeps her knees glued to each other, and leaves her hands on top of her legs, unsure of what to do them. The space she is occupying is minimal.

_She’s so small._

He catches himself staring and turns his attention to the outside again. Saïx then realizes he never explained the missions to her, and hopes she remembers their existence on her own. Another conversation with her might just do him in.

More footsteps approach, and he doesn’t bother to look at their source.

“Poppet!”

Until he hears that.

Xigbar half sits, half throws himself on the seat opposing Xion, and rests his arms on the back of it. He ignores Saïx’s glare, and looks at her instead, who has shrunk on her seat even more.

“X… Xigbar,” she says, unsure.

He grins in response.

“Yeah, you got it. Long time no see, huh?”

She’s appropriately confused, and Saïx notices her hands are clasped tightly together on her lap. Her fingers curl up against each other, and she looks down for a moment. Fishing for memories, he assumes.

“I… think, yes,” she looks back at him, feet shuffling closer to each other.

“You think? Poppet…” He drags the nickname out for longer than necessary, and leans forward, resting his elbows on his legs, “You don't remember? You knock me on my butt, and then forget all about it? I’m hurt.”

Xion’s hands almost glue to each other, and her shoulders tense up. He watches her, bites down at the inside of his mouth, and after moving his attention to Xigbar only to see he’s getting exactly the kind of response he wants: confusion and anxiety, Saïx decides he’s had enough.

_What is this idiot doing?_

He grits his teeth and walks towards them, making sure to put enough weight on every step that he was impossible to ignore. He stops next to the couch Xigbar was seated on, and scowls, and the man his glare is directed at turns his head to him and puts a mask of surprise on his face.

“Saïx! Didn’t see you there,” Xigbar lies, giving him a friendly wave.

_Of course you didn’t._

He opens his mouth to speak, but Xion is faster.

“Why are you calling me that…?” She asks, looking at her hands then at Xigbar, “My name is Xion.”

Xigbar grins at her, and Saïx hates it.

“Oh, I know.”

He offers her no further explanation, and Saïx crosses his arms.

“What’s the point of confusing her?”

The other stays quiet for a moment, and lets out a low chuckle before leaning back on his seat and crossing his arms himself, giving Saïx an infuriating smile, eye glowing with malice.

“It’s not like it’ll do any harm, if anything it helps me see if she’s got any of those pesky memories back,” he says.

“And you’d risk her getting the memories back for your own entertainment?”

Xigbar laughs, and pulls himself up, putting his hands on his hips. Saïx can see Xion watching them intently from the corner of his vision, but he keeps focused on the man in front of him. Some stares are exchanged, then Xigbar leans forward, and Saïx tilts his head away from him in displeasure.

“Why do you care if I confuse her?”

He puts an uncomfortable emphasis on the last word, and Saïx narrows his eyes at it.

_I slipped up._

“It,” he pauses, “is already unstable enough. I had to teach Xion how to fight again, I don’t need you making my job harder. We’re all very busy, as you said.”

Xion’s gaze on him hurts, and the smile on Xigbar’s face only widens, making it all worse. He stands upright, shrugging and throwing his arms up in the air before letting himself fall on the couch again.

“Sorry about that, then!” Is all he says.

Xion looks at Saïx, and as much as he doesn’t want to, he gives her a glance in a vague attempt at an apology before returning to where was standing before the conversation went down. He returns to looking outside, at the rocks, at the dust that’s kicked up by the wind. More people enter the room, and he doesn’t bother checking who they are. Some of them talk.

“Whoa, hold on, who’s this?” Demyx asks, and Saïx is surprised he’s here, and not oversleeping.

“I’m…” Xion’s voice is small. There’s a force desperately begging for him to turn his head to them, but he refrains.

“Hold on a minute,” Larxene’s perpetually annoyed voice is unmistakable, “Don’t tell me they brought back this faceless kid too.”

“Yes,” Vexen interjects and Saïx feels a bit of the stress leave him, “Xion is back, at Xemnas’ request.”

“Wha?” Demyx says, “They wanted a puppet back?”

“What do you mean, puppet?” Larxene asks.

“Is it really such a surprise, Demyx?” Vexen ignores her, and Saïx hears a disgruntled huff. “For the purposes of this organization, a puppet is the perfect asset.”

“I guess you’re right…”

“Hello? Can you answer my question?” Larxene speaks up again.

“Another time.”

“Vexen!”

“You think I’ve forgotten your past disrespect?” Vexen taunts, and Saïx can only imagine Larxene’s face, “I owe you no answers, you should consider yourself lucky I’m even addressing you right now..”

“Now, now, Vexen, the past is in the past,” Marluxia breaks his own silence to say his piece.

The conversation dismantles into a meaningless argument, and Saïx feels comfortable letting it become background noise. Vexen is a strange individual, he thinks. He told him, when Saïx asked him if the replica project that birthed Xion was able to be repeated, that he wished to atone for his past mistakes. Still, his personality has changed very little, something that works well with the secret nature of their stunts, but also contrasts heavily with his oh so noble intentions.

Thinking back, he wonders when Vexen realized he was a traitor. Maybe was when he lied and said his inquiry was at Xemnas’ request, maybe it was when he called Xion by name.

He continues his examination of the rocks outside. Larxene shouts something he doesn’t care to decipher and presumably storms off, but he still hears Marluxia and Vexen speaking back and forth, with Demyx sometimes offering his two cents. Xion’s voice is nowhere to be heard. The tedious chat drowns out any other ambient noise.

Including small steps approaching him.

He sees something creep up in the corner of his vision, and when he looks at it, he sees Xion has decided to lean against the glass, next to him. She keeps her hands clasped together behind her, and doesn’t look up. He opens his mouth, but is unsure of what to say.

“They’re loud,” she says, and he can barely hear it.

He glances at them.

“...They are.”

He turns his attention to her again, and she gets smaller at his stare.

_Is that all she had to say?_

From the corner of his eye, he sees Xigbar analyzing them both, and decides to go back to examining the rocks.

“These guys… I think I remember their names, or at least remember their faces,” her voice is a whisper, and Saïx starts to think it’s on purpose.

“You should, you knew them, though some only for a very short time,” he says, matching her volume.

“I don’t think I like them.”

“I can’t blame you.”

He thinks he hears her laugh, silently, and the hammer starts pounding on his chest again.

“Can you tell me about my friends?”

He can’t help but turn his head to her when she says that.

“I can’t…” her voice gets even lower, and it’s a struggle to hear her words, “I don’t remember their faces, or their names.”

Saïx notices a cloud outside and finds it interesting enough to stare at.

Roxas, he could bear to talk about. The boy was a victim of his jealousy, like Xion, but he could speak of him in objective terms. The organization’s hope, Xion’s initial source of memories and power, and a traitor.

But Axel…

Dread washes over him. The ever present hole in his chest grows for a moment, and air struggles to enter his lungs. He’s been avoiding thinking about him, despite everything, despite him being part of the reason he was doing this in the first place. The low, buzzing ache that comes just at the thought of his name makes the reason why he's been avoiding it clear.

“Depending on what you ask,” he says.

_...Not Lea._

She gives him a nod, and they keep quiet. The background chatter eventually dies down, and instead of one big argument, the ones in the room divide themselves into small groups of conversation. Xion keeps looking at someone in the corner, and Saïx is curious enough to check who it is.

The Riku Replica.

“Riku…?” She whispers.

“Not the one you know.”

She looks at him, then down.

“But… how?”

“A replica.”

She drums her fingers on her legs, and Saïx observes her, almost being able to hear the gears turning in her head.

“I’m a replica too, right?”

“Yes.”

“I was made to…” she drifts off, and with a small grunt, brings her hands to her head, “To…”

“Don’t push yourself,” he says, and goes back to the cloud.

“My friend, I think it had something to do with him.”

It takes him a moment to respond, painfully aware of the people surrounding them.

“Keep the questions for later.”

“Okay.”

Not long after that exchange, Xemnas enters the room, an immediate silence from everyone in the room signaling his arrival.

“Friends. Good morning to you all.”

Saïx turns to face the room, finally, and Xion shifts next to him, keeping her head down.

“I trust you have all been informed of your assignments?”

“Yep, I’ve told them all,” Xigbar says, getting up from his seat and stretching his arms above his head.

“Very well. You may all get to them now..”

Everyone, at varying speeds, proceeds to leave their conversation groups and open portals to head to different locations. Some enter the same portals, some go alone.

“Saïx? I don’t know what my mission is, ” Xion whispers, a hint of panic in her voice.

“With me,” he states, opening a portal of his own, feeling each of his movements be tracked by Xemnas. He holds his breath and steps into the portal without a second thought. The moment Xion follows him in, confused but desperate not to be left alone, he closes it.

In the darkness, he takes a moment to breathe. Xion stares at where the portal was.

“What are we doing?”

“Recon. Larxene is usually assigned to where we’re going, but they want me to make sure you can fight. So we’ll be taking some heartless out as we go.”

“Okay. Where are _you_ normally assigned to?”

He blinks at the question.

“I’m often in charge of sorting the reports.”

“Like before.. Right? We handed the reports to you,” she brings her hand to her chin.

“Yes, you did. I assigned you the missions as well, but as you can see, that’s not my responsibility anymore.”

She nods in silence. He takes it as an opportunity to start walking and she follows, staring at the floor as she does. The ever present weight on his shoulders gets stronger the longer they walk, and he keeps glancing back to made sure she’s still with him, and sometimes she looks up at him. It only makes the weight worse.

_She’ll hate me, and it’ll be fine._

As if she can hear his thoughts, she speeds up, and appears on his side.

“What are my friends’ names?”

The question is sudden enough that he slows down for a moment.

Maybe if he speaks of Roxas enough she won’t inquire about the other one.

“Roxas is the one you were remembering before,” he resumes his pace.

Xion, on the other hand, speeds up even more and hops in front of him, walking backwards as she faces him. He wonders if she’s tormenting him on purpose.

_I can’t do this._

“Roxas…! Roxas, right!” She lights up, “He was around my height, wasn’t he?”

“Yes…?”

_Why is she asking about heights?_

“I met him before the tall one, I think…”

_Oh._

“You did, you were sent on a mission together and… he befriended you, I suppose.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not like I saw it happen.”

That comes out more dismissive than he intended. The knife in his chest twitches when she lets out a small ‘oh’ of disappointment.

“Well… okay, then, does he look like?”

“You still don’t remember?”

She shakes her head.

“Not his face. I can remember a few conversations, though.”

It makes enough sense for him. Her memories seem to come back faster when she sees the people they’re tied to… and Roxas certainly isn’t anywhere to be seen. Still, being asked to describe him is a strange experience. He keeps quiet for a moment.

“He had spiky hair, that was light brown. Blue eyes…” he drifts off. That was about it, really. “Looked like a teenager, of course.”

_Just a kid, too._

She slows down, and so does he, to avoid bumping into her. Her head tilts down and he feels like he just kicked a puppy. Why? He just answered her question.

“Why the past tense?”

He clenches his jaw at the question. She sounds so _defeated._

The knife twists.

“I just don’t know what he looks like now,” he says, technically not lying, but far from saying the truth.

He doesn’t look like _anything_ now, because Roxas is in Sora’s heart, and doesn’t have a body. Something he’d like to fix.

“Oh, okay,” she cheers up immediately, and miraculously, he feels some tension leave his body.

_What is this?_

He pushes through whatever it is and takes a few steps forward, and Xion takes a few steps back, and they resume their walk, with her directly in front of him.

“I was created to do something to Roxas, to absorb… his powers,” she says, but it sounds more like a question than a statement.

“Correct, the organization wanted you to get his abilities.”

“The Keyblade.”

“The Keyblade,” he echoes.

Silence settles again, and he lets it stay. She looks at the ground, and he can only assume she’s piecing things together.

“I think…” She slows down, but keeps moving, and he’s forced to reduce his speed as well.

She brings her hands in front of her, staring at her palms for a few seconds.

“I think I was sapping power out of him.”

“You were.”

He stops walking himself, having reached their destination, but it takes her a few extra steps to realize it.

“Did he know?”

“Not that I’m aware. I didn’t concern myself with your conversations.”

She nods, and he opens another portal when she fails to say anything. They step out and a cold breeze hits them immediately.

“Ah!” Xion recoils into herself, putting her arms around her, “Snow?”

Saïx hums in agreement. Perhaps he should have warned her of the climate. She holds her arms there for a moment longer, rubbing them with her hands, and examines the surroundings. After taking a few steps forward, Xion lets her arms down, and he sees her breath escape her mouth while she appreciates the place.

After a few seconds, her head turns down, and she takes a small step back, then stares at the footprints she left behind. She kicks up some snow, watches it fall, then bends down to look at it, to which he raises an eyebrow. She reaches out and runs her hand through the white, but flinches back at the temperature.

“I’ve never seen snow before.”

He can’t help but take note of the simple joy in her words. It softens him.

“At least I think I haven’t,” she says, and twists her head up so she can look at him without moving from her spot. It takes him a moment to realize she’s asking a question.

“I don’t think you have, the worlds you were sent to don’t usually have snow in them.”

She hops to her feet, and pats her coat, trying to get the water off her gloves.

“It’s wet.”

“Of course it is, it’s frozen water.”

“Well I’m sorry, know-it-all,” she huffs as she gives her leg one last pat before either deciding her hand was dry enough or just giving up on the concept entirely.

The corners of him mouth curl up, and she looks at him, stares at him, for a few seconds before he breaks eye contact and returns to his usual neutral expression. He can still feel her eyes on him, and it’s excruciating.

 _What_ is _this?_

She takes a step to the side, following his movement, trying to get his attention. He doesn’t have the will to ignore her.

“About Roxas, again… Why did he leave?”

His fingernails dig into his gloves while he thinks of a response.

“I can only assume personal quarrels pushed him to it.”

He tried to stop him, only to fail miserably.

Xion tilts her head, but for once, Saïx’s answer is all he can give her. He didn’t care for Roxas’ motives then, he can only assume now that his betrayal had something to do with the ever growing chasm between him and Axel. A chasm that Saïx had helped create. She sighs at the silence.

“Okay…”

Still, even if he’s not lying, it doesn’t feel good.

“Let’s go, we don’t have many hours of sunlight left.”

She doesn’t say anything, but follows him anyway.

He makes his way to their goal, cutting through the woods to make their trip both faster and less noticeable. But he has to stop sometimes, because Xion gets distracted by the view, or by a small animal she’s never heard of before. This time, it’s up in the trees. He notices her stopping again, and follows the direction she is looking at, and sees it too: a white owl. It observes them both with big black pupils, and Xion seems content with staring back at it. Saïx looks at her.

“It’s cute,” she says.

“I suppose.”

She laughs, and turns to him.

_She keeps laughing._

“What kind of answer is _that_?”

“I don’t know what you wanted me to say,” he states, matter-of-factly, as some senseless embarrassment overtakes him.

“I don’t know, agree?”

“I did.”

“But in a normal way.”

“Now what does _that_ mean?” He crosses his arms. Any annoyance that comes through in his voice is, for the most part, fake.

She giggles, again, and it’s enough to make him drop the irritated façade. Waving her hand in dismissal, she walks past him, stops, and turns to him again. She waits for him, and he knows it’s because she has no idea where they are headed herself. He raises an eyebrow, and stays still. Even through the shadow that obscures her face, he can see her holding back a smile.

“Saïx.”

He drums his fingers against his arm, and she tries her hardest to stare his silence away, to no results.

“Sorry for insulting your completely normal reply.”

There’s a smile on his face, one he’s unaware of, and it widens while he unfolds his arms and finally leaves his spot.

“Appreciated,” he says once he passes her, and hears a snort in response.

It was an ugly snort, and a quiet laugh leaves him. The hurt creeps into him again, spreading like smoke in his lungs, but there’s something stronger than it too, something foreign that warms his chest and both increases and dulls the pain. She half runs, half jumps until she’s next to him. Her hood bounces on top of her head as she lands on his side, seemingly impossible to be knocked down, and as easily as it came, the smile leaves his face before he can realize it’s there.

“What’s up?” She asks, chirpy, but careful in a way that worsens the ache.

“Nothing.”

She lingers on him for a second, before hopping ahead a few steps and continuing to be perpetually enthralled by the scenery. It hurts, still, but if anything, her cheerful walk makes it better.

Then, she spots something, and readies her weapon.

Walking ahead a few more steps lets him see exactly what it is. A group of heartless, some Soldiers, and some he’d never seen before, resembling deers with horns made of ice.

“You said I should take them out, right?”

“Yes.”

She nods and lunges forward. It takes her a few swings with her blade until she settles into combat completely. Her frustration with the weapon shows through in her clumsy swings with too much strength put into them, but after a few seconds of dodging around and throwing some fire spells, that frustration seems to either leave or get put under control. Regardless of the answer, she disposes of all of them.

_It looks like she was never gone at all._

The released hearts float up to the sky, and she watches them disappear from view before she turns to him.

“So. I can fight!” She says, twirling the weapon.

“It sure seems that way.”

Whatever reply she was about to give him, it’s interrupted by the rustling of the tree branches, followed by a gigantic shadow being cast over them.

He looks up at its source, summoning his claymore without a second thought, and sees a serpent-like white heartless, with blue spikes coming out of its body, and icy wings that resembled stained glass. Xion gasps, and takes a few steps back, and Saïx leaps forward.

He lands in front of her as the creature glues its wings to its body and dives down at them, and he brings Lunatic in front of him, bracing for the impact. The heartless crashes its head on the weapon and slides down, submerging itself on the ground. He’s shot backwards by the blow, and Xion jumps to the side to avoid him.

While he regains his composure, he sees her track the creature through the snow it kicks up as it digs underground, and when it rises to the surface again, shooting up to the sky, she takes a leap forward and strikes at its right wing. Shattered ice falls like rain, and the heartless screeches when it plummets back to the ground. Xion lands back down herself and shields her face from the snow kicked up by its fall, and starts taking steps back once she notices the serpent slithering towards her.

Saïx runs ahead again, past her, swinging his weapon in an arc and hitting it in its muzzle, diverting its trajectory elsewhere. It flees from the confrontation, coils up near some trees, before staring the duo down with its twirling yellow eyes and moving towards them again for another clash. It flaps its remaining wing up and down, and with a jump, manages to get considerable height, readying to strike down at them from above.

They exchange no words, and Xion jumps up again, and in one flip and flick of her sword, the other wing is shattered as well. Saïx readies his claymore, and when another millisecond of waiting would cost him dearly, Lunatic is swung upwards and its head hits the foe in the jaw. The blown launches it over Saïx’s head and it crashes to the ground one final time before dissipating.

Saïx watches the snow fall back down, and stands upright once again, letting his claymore vanish. Contrasting with his quick recovery, though, he hears a few short pants behind him. He turns to her source, and there’s Xion, watching the snowflakes, shoulders rising and falling. She notices him, and sheathes her sword.

“I had that, you know.”

He raises his head, amused.

“I’m sure.”

“I did!” She says, and walks over to him, “Thank you, though.”

The words don’t hit him quite as hard as they did the day before, but while they don’t hurt like an open wound, they’re still enough to make his lungs stop working for a moment.

“...Of course.”

“I want to know, though, am as I good as I was back then? I can’t really tell… since I don’t remember much.”

He ponders for a moment. He isn’t sure Xion is aware, but the times when he saw her in action were limited. It’s not as if he was constantly out in the field, after all. Still, as far as he can tell…

“You seem at about the same level of skill,” he glances at her weapon, “your distaste for _that_ is noticeable, though.”

She looks at it herself, and crosses her arms.

“I want my Keyblade back…”

Not sure of what to say to that, he shifts his weight from one foot to another and stays silent.

“Why am I incomplete anyway?”

Her hands are brought up in front of her as she says that, and she looks at her palms then at the back of them, like she’s confirming they’re there. It is a bit childish, in a way, he knows she is aware that’s not what he meant by her being incomplete, but if it gives her comfort… he is hardly the one to judge. She closes her hands and let them fall to her side again, before lifting her head to him and waiting for an answer.

“Your heart is… elsewhere.”

Admitting she ever had one so blatantly isn’t something he ever thought he would do. But she did, that much was clear, otherwise her sacrifice made no sense. No one without a heart would care enough about their friends and the world around them to give up their chance at life. She could have just ran away and never gone back to Riku, to Sora, and yet…

“Do you know where?”

Still, he is unsure of how he should approach this. Would she understand if he told her the complete truth? Would she remember more, then? The thought of it makes his lungs ache, but he doesn’t understand why.

_If she remembers more…_

Would she remember him?

She tilts her head at his silence, bringing her hands behind her, and Saïx decides he doesn’t care about the pain in his chest more than making her stop looking at him like that.

“With Sora. Roxas’ Somebody.”

“Sora…”

The name escapes her as a whisper, and she looks at her hands again.

“I remember him. I absorbed Roxas’ memories, that had Sora as their source. Sora couldn’t wake up because of it, so…”

Her hands curl up into fists, and she looks to the side.

“I made Roxas destroy me.”

That was certainly new information. She looks at him, waiting for a confirmation that he can’t give.

“I didn’t know,” he says.

“Oh, okay.”

“But if you think that happened, it probably did. You haven’t been wrong about anything so far.”

“True enough…” She retreats to her thoughts again, and though Saïx is slowly becoming aware how much time their constant pauses are costing them, he doesn’t have nearly enough courage to interrupt her. The sun is reaching the horizon, and the sky is transitioning into purple, but he would make an appropriate excuse for their tardiness when they got back.

“If my heart is with Sora, does that mean I don’t have one right now?”

He brings his gaze back from the horizon to her. One of her hands is on her chest, and she’s not looking at him, only down.

_She’s trying to feel it._

It’s sad to watch, in a way, he knows how it is to feel nothing but a hole in your chest. The numbness was the only thing he could think about for quite some time. She didn’t act like he did, though. She's jumping around and appreciating the animals she sees , and was curious enough about snow that she touched it without thinking. She's just… acting like a person.

And she keeps laughing. Something someone without a heart shouldn't be doing.

“I don’t know,” he says. She shouldn’t have one, but everything she does is pointing to the contrary.

Xion nods, and looks up at him, then at his chest, then to the side, then back at him, and she keeps looking at him, and he feels like she is about to say something that he does not have the energy to deal with right now. She opens her mouth to say it, and he starts walking away, speaking up himself.

“We need to get going, or the one we’re here to observe will have gone home already.”

“Oh! Right, sorry.”

Again, she walks next to him, and not behind.

It doesn’t take them long to reach the top of a hill, where Saïx promptly stops and observes the girl on the plains below them. She has brown hair that is separated into two braids, and seems to be picking a few stray flowers that haven’t succumbed to the cold.

Xion taps her foot.

“What are we doing?” She says.

“Observing.”

She gives the floor one last tap before shooting him what he can only assume is an annoyed glare. His lack of reaction makes her look down at the stranger as well.

“Who is she?”

“The sister to this world’s future queen, who the organization suspects may be one of the new seven lights.”

Xion peers down, taking a small step forward.

“Why are we looking at her and not at the other princess, then?”

“Because the other one is rarely seen in public.”

“Huh.”

She takes a step back again, and turns to him.

“Do you guys know why? Is she just shy, or…?”

_Can’t she just take things at face value?_

“I’ve been told she has some sort of power she has to keep hidden. Apparently, she hurt her sister once before without meaning to.”

Despite his annoyance, he can’t bring himself to ignore her questions.

“But why doesn’t she just say sorry, then?”

“People are more complicated than that.”

“It sounds stupid.”

He glances at her and she pointedly ignores it.

“I mean, isn’t she just making it worse by not talking to her sister?” She says.

“Sometimes it hurts to talk about things.”

Restlessness starts creeping up on him, for some reason.

“Sure, but sometimes you have to do it anyway.”

“Well, Xion, we’re not here to offer them therapy.”

She half taps, half stomps her foot on the ground again, and he crosses his arms.

“That’s not my _point,_ I’m just saying the situation’s dumb.”

“I think you’re oversimplifying it.”

_Why am I....?_

“I get why she doesn’t want to bring it up, but… if she loves her sister, doesn’t not talking about it just make it hurt more? Maybe her sister thinks she doesn’t like her anymore.”

_I am so tired._

Clearly, the long walk had taken his toll on him. After a deep breath, and a sudden realization that absolutely none of this matters, he responds.

“I wouldn’t know.”

Her glare on him is sharp enough to cut the ice on the horizon, but she takes the hint and the conversation ends. The girl looks around for some more minutes, and once she’s scanned the surroundings, seems to realize there are no more flowers for picking  She picks up the basket where she was gathering them, and walks away.

“What was the point of this?”

“Maybe she’s gathering flowers for her sister.”

Xion pauses.

“Saïx, I meant us watching her pick flowers for ten minutes.”

He blinks.

“Oh. Well, we were meant to check on her condition. Sometimes the point of the missions is just to make sure nothing’s changed.”

“...Makes enough sense, I guess.”

She stretches her arms up, standing on her tip toes as she does, and he looks at the sky in front of them. The purple had turned into a vibrant red, and the gold of the sunset painted the white canvas that is the landscape to create a beautiful scenery neither of them noticed during their bickering. Saïx takes a moment to appreciate it, before turning to open a corridor.

“Well, let’s head back.”

Xion doesn’t respond, or even move. He brings his hand down again and closes the portal.

She just looks at the scenery. The sunset. Saïx looks back at it himself. They are late, he knows, but…

_This is harmless. It’s fine._

Watching her, it looks like she’s hypnotized by it. Even with the sun directly on her, though, he can’t see her face. It makes no sense to him. Does she have a face at all? He refuses to believe the answer is no, the replica bodies change form depending on what inhabited them, and she is clearly not a mannequin. Even through the shadows, he has seen her emote countless times this mission alone.

_Then why?_

Xion snaps out of her trance and brings her hands together in front of her, taking a few steps back. He watches all of it intently.

“Xion?”

He hears her take a deep, shaky breath and is pushed to step closer. She is looking at her hands, not ahead, when he gets to her side, and she doesn’t react to his presence. His chest tightens, and he raises a hand and brings it to her field of vision, slowly. She notices it and finally looks up at him, but fails to say anything. Her hands are clasped together.

“Is something the matter?” He asks.

She looks at the sunset again.

“I just… like sunsets.”

He finds no suitable reply, and the droning pain in his chest that he had somehow managed to ignore for most of their trip returns at full force. She shakes her head.

“Let’s go, sorry,” she says.

“It’s… no problem.”

He opens the portal and she walks to it, before stopping a few inches from it.

“Why didn’t you just open a portal leading up here from the start?”

A second passes before he answers.

“I was given directions, and have never been here myself. I prefer to walk when that is the case. Besides, you had to fight some heartless, yes? That was half of the point of coming here.”

And, though he won’t ever say it, partly because he doesn’t realize it himself, watching her gleefully explore the surroundings made him forget that he could do that at all.

“Oh, okay.”

She hesitates for a moment, before stepping through the portal. He does the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you have no idea how much the concept of saix in arendelle makes me lose my mind. this was so hard to write because i kept thinking about it and laughing.  
> hope you enjoyed it as much as i enjoyed writing it! :>


	4. IV. Sunset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saïx gives Xion fighting lessons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgive me if theres any obvious mistakes i didnt catch. i really wanna post this but reading through 8k words for the third time in a row might just do me in

Once at the base, Saïx shoos her off to her room. She doesn’t quite understand why, but hearing Xemnas arrive after she leaves is enough motivation for her to hurry down the hallways. When she reaches her room, she goes straight for the diary she left on the desk. The sunset she just saw, it was beautiful, and it hit her like a truck, making her throat close up, and time slow down.

She wants to watch the sun go down in Twilight Town.

_ That’s the name of the place. Where I used to watch the sunset with Roxas, and… _

She can’t complete the thought, and hates it. Hates it so much. She got distracted by the joy of regaining some memories with Roxas, that she forgot to ask Saïx about her other friend, and regret is eating her up inside.

Memories of the day flood her and she decides to pick up the pen. She taps it against the table a few times, deep in thought. Opening the diary and flipping a page, she’s met with a blank canvas for her to pour her thoughts on. Her hand writes without restraint, recounting the day that was now on the verge of ending. Looking back on it, it was a strange one, but far from awful. Her encounter with Xigbar wasn’t exactly pleasant, it felt like she was the target of a joke, but it did help her remember her replica status. She had gotten a hint when Saïx first called her a puppet, but hearing Xigbar call her “poppet” with so much emphasis, as insulting as it was, was the final push she needed to remember it. That, along with Saïx explaining why Riku was there.

The memory of Xigbar brings back another unpleasant one.

_ Saïx called me ‘it’... _

And it didn’t feel wrong, either, coming out of his mouth. She stops writing for a second, and feels her breathing speed up for a moment. That is enough to push her away from the subject. The events after that were uncomfortable too, the atmosphere only got worse when Demyx and the blonde woman, whose name she  _ thinks _ starts with an L but isn’t quite sure, started talking about her while she was  _ right there _ . 

_ The people here aren’t very nice. But Saïx seems alright so far. _

She stops writing for a moment and brings the pen to her chin. Her memories tell her the opposite. She still can’t remember exactly what he did to her back then that makes today’s interactions feel so contradictory, but she knows for a fact she wouldn’t have had the courage to make fun of him back then.

Clearly, he had called her ‘it’ often enough to make her remember hearing it in his voice before, but he’s been calling her ‘she’ for the rest of their interactions. And, awful as it was, that couldn’t have been all of the wrong he did to her back then. There’s a memory in her head that’s trying its hardest to break through the surface back into her conscious mind, but it keeps getting drowned out in fog, and, in a way, drowned out in her new memories with him.

Whatever it is, she gives up trying to coax it back, and turns back to the other big question in her mind: if he’s calling her ‘she’ consistently, now, why did that change for that single moment?

_ Was he trying to save face with Xigbar? That’s what it looked like. He doesn’t seem to like him much, either. _

Did Saïx always have this disdain for the other members? She is just now realizing that he decided that staring at the boring view outside was more appealing than chatting with the others. 

_ Maybe he’s always been a mean introvert. I think he has. _

But he stopped being mean to her specifically, for whatever reason.

_ Whatever happened, I like this Saïx a lot more. _

After writing that, she puts the pen down and leans back in her seat.

“Should I… ask him about it?”

It would be more than a bit awkward to go up to him and ask ‘Hey? Why do I feel like I should hate you?’, especially considering he’s been the only pleasant person she’s met so far. Puffing her cheeks, Xion stares at the white ceiling.

“They should really paint these walls.”

She pushes her feet against the ground, and tilts the chair upwards.

_ The sunset…  _

Going to Twilight Town’s clock tower without her friends sounded wrong. She’s gone there alone before, of course, but always hoping to see one of them already sitting there. Somehow, she knows that won’t happen if she goes there now. Her chest hurts with disappointment.

Still, she wants to watch the sunset somewhere. The hole in her chest is too painful to even consider going to the clock tower alone, but... the moment when the serenity of the view was enough to make all of her exhaustion go away, when she could truly appreciate it for what it was, it was almost magical. That is, before she realized how alone she felt.

“Roxas… and…”

Saying it out loud is no help in recalling who her other friend is.

“Ugh.”

_ I might as well get some sleep. _

She can ask him about it tomorrow.

 

She wakes up the next day, and the plain white that greets her from all directions reminds her of the fact that her old room had a window. Here, she has no view to the outside world, of the sky, thus she has no idea what time it is. Not that the plain black sky with nothing but the mighty Kingdom Hearts outside in The World That Never Was would give her the joy of sunlight or enhance her perception of time, but it was at least something she could stare at  Though, considering no one came to wake her up, she’s probably up early.

She hops out of bed, and prepares for the day. The morning routine flies by and she makes her way to the meeting area, borderline walking on the tip of her toes. If she thought people here were mean as it is, she doesn’t want to find out how cruel they can be if you interrupt their beauty sleep.

As she approaches her destination, a noise starts to make itself known, and after a few more steps, that noise turns into chatter.

_ People are up already, I guess. _

She slows down, and takes a silent step into the room. Saïx is up, as is Xigbar.

_ Ugh. _

Xigbar notices her despite her best efforts, and gives Saïx a hard, friendly but unfriendly, pat on the back, before wandering off to the couch.

“Mornin’, Poppet.”

Xion gives him a halfhearted wave that seems to satisfy him enough that he doesn’t say anything else. She gives Saïx a glance, wondering if he would react to Xigbar so clearly ignoring his request from the day before. To her surprise, and perhaps, disappointment, he’s looking down at his hand. He barely moves, and she wonders if he noticed her at all.

Despite Xigbar’s presence, she walks towards him, and she’s not sure if it’s her mind playing tricks on her, but she can swear she sees him waver like a dead tree being hit by wind. She quickens her pace, now giving up any pretense of silence, and reaches him in no time.

“Saïx?” She half whispers, half shouts, peering up at his downcast face.

In the second that it takes him to shake his head and bring his hand up to rub his face, she sees heavy eyes, with pupils that feel… different, somehow.

“Xion,” he answers, far too late. He gets done rubbing his eyes, blinks a couple of times, and it looks like he’s adjusting his eyes to a sudden light. But there’s nothing like that here, only the constant sunlight from the outside, sunlight that was still hitting him just a few seconds ago, when he had his eyes wide open.

She takes a step forward, and he takes one back. She opens her mouth but he speaks up first.

“I’m fine,” he says, “How are you doing?”

Saïx lets his hand down, but looks away from something. Not her, for once. She feels it on the back of her head too, Xigbar’s silent stare.

“I’m… fine,” she answers.

_ He can’t say anything with him there. _

While there’s nothing she wants to do more than ask him what that was all about, she keeps her mouth shut, and leans against the glass just like she did the day before. A look at Saïx showed that he was less looking at the scenery outside, and more staring at the glass ahead of him, just a few inches from resting his head on it.

_ What happened? _

Someone else enters the room, and Xigbar is delighted to welcome their new guest.

“Repliku!”

Her head snaps to the door. Riku.... or, well, the replica that has his image, is one step away from entering the room, and he already has a nasty look on his face.

“Don’t call me that,” he growls, and wanders off to his designated corner.

_ That  _ is  _ mean... _

She’s being constantly reminded of Xigbar’s cruel knack for nicknames. Looking at the most recent victim, it’s clear he hates his as much as she dislikes hers. He shoots her a menacing glare once he notices her staring, and she promptly looks down.

_ I really, really miss Roxas. _

Having someone to chat with, or be comfortably around, or really just not give her death glares… it would be nice.

She looks at the one next to her, and he seems to have recovered enough to not have to let his head hang low. A small smile appears on her face, both from relief and gratitude. At least she has Saïx.

“Anything you want to say?” He asks, fixating on a cloud outside. Again.

She turns away, but the smile only softens.

“Not really,” she says, then lowers her volume and returns to her neutral expression once she sees Luxord enter the room. “Not now, anyway.”

A low hum of agreement comes as a response, and they keep quiet. Saïx gives the people behind them not even a second of his attention, but she’s curious enough to watch. Luxord takes a seat on the couch opposing Xigbar’s and crosses his arms, twirling a card in his hand.

“Xigbar, good morning,” he says, in his usual tone that makes her unable to tell when he’s being serious and when he’s being sarcastic.

_ Is he ever sarcastic? Maybe he’s just like this all the time… _

He flicks the card up, and catches it with his other hand.

_ That sounds about right. _

“Morning, Croupier,” he says, and Luxord doesn’t even give him an annoyed glance.

_ At least  _ someone  _ here doesn’t mind the nicknames…  _

“How are things going?”

“Eh, y’know,” Xigbar dismisses him with a wave and stretches his feet in front of him, placing them on top of the table, legs crossed. Luxord gives him a frown, and they share a silent conversation, with Xigbar shrugging with unnecessary exaggeration and Luxord giving up on staring some manners into him. “The usual.”

“Oh, I’m sorry for that, then,” Luxord materializes a deck in his hand with a twist of the wrist, and Xion looks at him like she just witnessed a magic trick, “Stability brings nothing but complacency.”

_ I wouldn’t say that… _

He flicks the cards from one hand to another, cuts the deck in half, then performs a riffle shuffle.

“You got that right… brings boredom too, being stuck with these jobs.”

“Speaking of, Xigbar, may I ask for today’s assignment?”

“Oh, right, right,” he brings his feet down from the table, and gestures at Luxord’s direction, “You’re off to those islands again, same as yesterday.”

Luxord seems more than pleased.

“Very well! With that out of the way, would you care for a game?” 

“Another time, Bookie,” Xigbar dismisses him and gets up from his seat. Luxord looks mildly disappointed.

“You know as well as I do that I am a player, not an overseer.”

_ Luxord’s weird, but nice enough, I guess. _

“Sure, whatever. Let me do my job.”

_...What’s a croupier, anyway? _

She has to ask Saïx later.

And just like he sensed the atmosphere getting lighter, Xigbar turns to her, to both of them, and she brings her hands to her stomach. He either doesn’t notice or care for her nervousness, and makes his way to them. Time slows down for a moment, and she looks at Saïx, who’s still fixated on the sky outside. He was talking to Xigbar before she found him like that, wasn’t he? She figures he doesn’t want to repeat the experience.

_ Or he’s still out of it enough that he didn’t notice Xigbar getting up. _

Xion takes a tiny step forward, just noticeable enough to get Xigbar’s attention away from Saïx and to her, and he pauses at her moving at all. He analyzes her for a second that feels like a minute, glances at Saïx, then grins.

“So, Poppet!”

Saïx snaps his head back to him, looks at Xion, and takes a bigger step forward than she did.

“What did I tell you about--”

“Not talking to you! Poppet here wants to hear her assignment, yeah?”

The answer gets stuck in her mouth for a second.

“Yes.”

Though she can’t see his face, she can tell Saïx clenches his jaw. Even through the cloth of his gloves, his knuckles looks tense, like he’s holding himself back from balling it into a full blown fist. Xigbar takes a step to the left, away from Saïx, and bends down with hands on his hips, peering into Xion’s face. Strangely enough, while Saïx’s eyes run into a barrier any time he attempts to make eye contact with her, Xigbar stares straight at her just fine. No barriers, nothing holding him back. She presses her lips together, then stops doing so once she realizes he can probably see it clear as day.

_ He can see my face, then? _

She’s figured out, already, that Saïx can’t, and that many people couldn’t back then. Her friends could. And she remembers now that Xigbar once said something about seeing ‘him’ when he looks at her.

_ Who? Sora? _

She’s looked like Sora before.

Her thoughts race, and the second before Xigbar speaks lasts an eternity.

“You’re paired with the guy next to you again, and he’s supposed to give you fighting lessons.”

He leans to her left a bit more, eye staring needles at her face. Air catches on her throat for a moment, and she pushes against the urgent need to take a step back, or just break eye contact, and speaks up.

“Okay. Thank you.”

Saïx gets sick of being ignored and moves so he’s between them again, and Xigbar backs off in an instant, hands dramatically thrown up.

“Why didn’t you hand the task to me like yesterday?” He almost growls, head lowered in hostility.

“Got bored of that. I’m not a mailman.”

Xigbar’s eye moves from him, and back to Xion for a moment. A grin appears on his face.

“More fun this way.”

“You’ve said your piece. Get lost,” Saïx says.

“Was having a friendly chat with,” he makes an unnatural pause, and his smile widens, “it, and you just had to interrupt.”

She holds back the frown that she wants to give him. Saïx gives him no such decency and glares at Xigbar until he turns away and makes his way to his next victim. That being, Riku, in the corner of the room. Saïx turns to her, giving her a long glance before he steps back to his designated skywatching spot. She leans back against the glass as well.

Xigbar is far enough that a whisper probably won’t reach him.

“What happened?” She asks, watching Luxord lay his cards on the table.

“Why are you asking?”

“You were out of it just now.”

Luxord places cards facing down in a horizontal line, then put another row of cards on top of all of them but one. He repeats the process, each time leaving one more row without an extra card, until there’s a triangular shape in front of him. He then places what remains of the deck in the corner, and flips the first card in each row so they’re facing up.

“Didn’t get much sleep,” Saïx says.

She turns to him when she sees Xigbar has moved from Riku to Demyx, who just entered the room. Saïx’s face is pale, she can see him breathing with all of the stability of a branch in a thunderstorm. He’s trying to hide it, too, but she has a feeling he knows he’s failing miserably. The silence does nothing to soothe the ringing in her lungs; looking down at his hand reveals that he is methodically pressing his nails against his palm. But his hand goes still when she looks at it for too long. She looks back up, and he’s looking at the nonexistent glass in front of her face, the golden of his eyes reflecting the sunlight.

“Why’s that?” She asks.

Though she’s not sure how much she buys his story, the heavy shadows on his face coupled with the fact his gaze somehow feels more unfocused than usual are more than enough reason to believe he’s tired. He opens his mouth, closes it, shuts his eyes for a moment, and opens them again with a frown, and a sound comes out of his mouth that sounds like a question made up of exactly zero words. The presence of other people is suffocating her into staying as still as a statue, but the hurt forming in her chest is begging for her to do something about… whatever he’s going through.

She has no idea what she can do, though, other than repeat her question.

“Why didn’t you get much sleep?” She asks, realizing too late that her volume is louder than it should be.

Checking on the people in the room shows she doesn’t have to worry, though. Demyx is inquiring Luxord as to how he’s playing a game  _ alone, _ Luxord is explaining the game to him with little annoyance and a hint of glee, Riku is quiet in his corner looking at the floor, and most importantly, Xigbar is far away and speaking to Larxene and Marluxia. Xion makes note of all of that, and turns back to Saïx. He’s resting the side of his head on the glass.

“No reason in particular.”

She bites her cheek, and turns her body to him, pressing her shoulder against the window.

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

He goes back to looking at the outside, and a tiny sigh leaves her.

“Good morning to you all.”

Xemnas’ voice echoes through the room, and every voice in the room is drowned out. He keeps quiet for a moment, scanning every person in the room, and when his eyes reach her, she gets smaller. Saïx takes a small step forward and Xemnas moves on to look at him for a few seconds, before continuing.

“It is time for you to get to your tasks.”

And so they do. Saïx opens a portal himself, and waits for her to go in before doing the same himself.

The trip through the darkness is quiet, and slow. His movements look heavier than they already did before, he’s slow enough that if she walks in her normal pace, she’ll end up leaving him behind. Her throat hurts at seeing him like this.

“Saïx?”

He squeezes his eyes shut for a second, and stops walking.

“Save it,” he says,  _ whispers, _ and opens another portal.

Stepping through it reveals the same place where she first got her weapon. Saïx takes a few more steps forward, and turns to her. He reaches his hand in her direction and his claymore materializes in front of him. Assuming his fighting stance, bringing his weapon behind him, he waits for her to do the same. It takes her a second to unsheathe her blade.

_ Do I really have to fight him like this? _

“Try to block my attacks, for now. Don’t strike back.”

Good, she doesn’t want to anyway. Still… He could barely stand just some time ago.

“Saïx…”

He doesn’t hear her, or he ignores her. Either way, he closes his eyes, before leaping forward and landing within an arm’s length from her. Lunatic is swung forward like it weights nothing, and she brings her blade up to meet it. Despite her digging her feet into the dry ground as much as possible, she’s pushed back by the impact. Her knees shake underneath her, and one of them gives out under the weight.

“Now that’s bad, isn’t it?”

More weight is put on the claymore, and she grunts in response. Her grip on the handle of her weapon tightens, her knee scrapes against the hard floor, and she glares up before twisting her blade and swinging it upwards, pushing him back and taking a leap back herself. Hard pants escape her as she regains composure and shakes her leg for a moment.

“I could have pushed you down then,” he says, Lunatic behind him again.

“But I got away.”

“Yes, I’m not trying to kill you,” he says, and slides one feet backwards, preparing for another leap. “If I was, it’d be different.”

Before she can even think of a reply, he lunges towards her again, and she braces for impact.

“Bend your legs more!” He shouts, seconds before he strikes down again, and she does so more out of instinct than by any action of her brain.

The blow travels from her blade to her arm to her shoulder, where she can feel something threatening to dislocate. Still, her legs hold out this time, even when the pressure increases, and when she somehow gathers the strength to look at him, she sees a proud smile. One appears in her face, too, and she swings upwards again to push him back. He takes a two steps back, rotates the claymore in his grasp and moves forward for another blow. She blocks it, again, pushing him away, they repeat the process a few times, and each time she is faster in her recovery.

“Strike back,” he says, and swings down again. As she blocks it with ease, she smiles, and instead of retreating after knocking him back, she takes a large step forward and brings her weapon down on him in a swing, which he blocks.

“With more effort, please,” he says, his smile widening at her own.

_ At least he’s having fun. This is fun. _

“Sure,” and the blade swings to her left, dragging the claymore with it, before being shot forwards in an attempt to cut his arm. He dodges by an atom, and tries to put some distance between them, something she doesn’t allow, bringing a flurry of attacks down on him. Most of them are blocked with ease, some are diverted with some difficulty, and finally, the last one hits with a diagonal swipe on his shoulder. A grunt leaves him, but he looks pleased.

“Gotcha,” she given him a wide grin, and hears a chuckle in response.

_ He is way different than before. _

In a good way.

He lowers his guard for a moment and looks away, and she lets her blade down herself. Observing him makes it clear that he hasn’t completely recovered from whatever was plaguing him since morning. Still, he notices her eyes on him and turns to her again, trying very hard to meet them with his own, to questionable results.

The claymore behind him twitches, and he waits until she reassumes her battle stance.

The process becomes routine in no time: his attacks get heavier each time, and her hand is starting to hurt after having to block the blows so many times, but she knows Saïx won’t let her give up. Really, giving up  _ isn’t  _ an option, because the alternative to blocking the blows is just getting hit by a claymore that matches her in size. Still, she can tell he’s not being as harsh as he could be. She doesn’t want to test it to find out, but she has to wonder if he could even bring himself to land a hit right now.

Her thoughts wander while their weapons clash, and trying to land a blow on him is becoming frustrating. Lunatic is gigantic, it’s hard to get around it to strike. So she has to get creative.

Saïx strikes down again, and instead of meeting the attack with her sword, Xion leaps to the side in a dodge. His eyes widen, he stumbles forward before he realizes what happened, and she leaps towards him again, and his unprotected arm is victim of her blade. A confused sound leaves him and he jumps away from her. She smiles, and takes the opportunity to actually breathe properly.

“Smart,” he says, but his tone makes it sound like a playful insult.

“I am,” she says, between heavy pants, a proud look on her face.

“Do you want to take a break?”

“Sure.”

He gives her a small nod and looks at her for a few more seconds, before she realizes that that was him giving her permission to wander off. Looking around her, though, she’s not sure where she wants to wander off  _ to. _ She spots a rock that is larger than the average one in this landscape, and decides that’s a good destination. After a few steps towards it, she feels eyes on the back of her head, and promptly turns to them. Saïx observes her with an expression she can’t decipher, but she thinks she still sees the ghost of a smile on his face.

“Are you planning on just standing there?” She asks.

He crosses his arms, but she sees no frown.

“Maybe, or maybe not.”

She keeps quiet and lets her staring to the work. He looks away, at the floor, then glances up at the sky for a few seconds, perhaps at the same cloud he was watching in the morning, then gives in. A sigh leaves him, and he walks towards her. She grins in victory, and returns making her way to the large rock, knowing he’s right behind her. When she gets there, she pats some of the dust off of before taking a seat, and turns her head up to Saïx, who stops next to the rock.

“Happy?” He says.

She giggles, and he looks away to try to hide a smile.

“It was this, or you’d stare off at the sky.”

“I thought you liked watching the sky.”

“Yeah, with friends.”

His face softens, but a frown appears, too, and his gaze drifts away. Not to the clouds, or the blue above them, but to the ground.

_ That includes you. _

The words stop at her throat for some reason, and she can’t push them out before she hears a soft groan from him. Her eyes widen, and he brings a hand up, though he stops himself before it reaches his face.

“Saïx?”

“I’m fine.”

_ You suck at lying. _

“Do you want to sit down?”

The look he gives her, a strange mix of surprise and terror, would be hilarious if she wasn’t so worried.

“No, I’m fine.”

She puffs her cheeks, lets the air out, and decides to stand up on the rock to glare down at him. He steps back at her getting up, and almost  _ recoils _ at her stare.

_ Is this what it’s like to be tall? _

After she spends a moment appreciating her temporary height, she speaks up.

“What  _ happened? _ ”

“I told you already.”

“Saïx!”

She cranes her neck forward and he turns his head further to the side. More staring comes from her, but it seems this was as far as her fake height and glares will get her, as he doesn’t budge. She leans back, and holds her arms around her, eyes falling to the floor.

“I’m just worried.”

He looks at her, with surprise in his eyes, and she feels a bit insulted. Did he think she  _ wasn’t? _ She hears a sigh leave him when he turns away again, crossing him arms, as if they’d shield him from her words.

“Don’t be.”

Pressing her lips together, she slumps back down and sits on the rock once again in defeat.

“Are you rested enough to continue?”

“Huh?” It takes her a moment to understand. “Oh, yes.”

She hops to her feet, and they return to their positions. Her weight shifts from one leg to another when he summons his weapon, examining it for a moment before assuming his usual stance, with it behind him.

“A match, now. Until someone admits defeat.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t hold back,” he says, as if it would change any of her feelings on the situation. She bites the inside of her mouth and nods, readying herself.

“Three, two, one… now!”

The moment the words leave him, he darts forward, and the sight of Lunatic being swung up is enough to make her brace for impact. The metals clash with a dissonant thud, and in the moment she locks eyes with him, the intensity of his glare is almost enough to make her loose her footing. Still, she pushes through it, pushes  _ him _ back, and goes in for a strike, one he dodges easily by taking one step to the side. She sees an opening, though, when he lowers his weapon to move, and swings her blade towards him. He dodges, again, easily, walking back a small distance, and her sword is overshot enough that she feels a muscle pull on her shoulder. Through gritted teeth, she hisses at the pain.

_ This stupid thing’s too light…! _

Saïx doesn’t forgive her moment of weakness, and trying to swing her arm in front of her to block the incoming blow only makes it worse. Her movement halts in the middle, her own body refusing to listen to her, and soon after the Lunatic crashes into her and sends her flying.

She grunts when she lands on the very arm that just failed her, and her weapon bounces a few feet ahead of her. Her eyes keep shut for a moment, keeping the dust she just kicked up away from her eyes. After opening them again, she sees him looking down, next to her. The weapon is still in his hand.

“Yield,” she says, and pushes herself off the ground. Once she manages to sit up, she rubs her shoulder and looks down at the floor.

“Anything broken?”

“No,” she says, and her voice is more than dismissive than she’d like it to be.

He kneels and lets his weapon disappear. His hand hangs near, and she looks at it, then at his lost face, then back at it, and removes her own from her injury. After another second of hesitation he places his hand on it, and a soft green light envelops her shoulder, willing the pain away.

“Thanks,” she mumbles.

“Of course,” he sits down on the floor himself, crossing his legs and letting his hands fall on his lap. Silence comes, and Xion looks back, at where her dumb sword fell. The glare she gives it must be horrible, because Saïx speaks up right after.

“What happened there?”

She stretches out to it, and once it’s in her hands, she sits up again, twisting it in her grasp, deep in thought.

“I’m not used to it.”

_ But I don’t have a choice. _

Saïx keeps quiet next to her, thinking of a reply, one she doesn’t wait for before she gets up again.

_ I have to at least… try. _

She gives it a swing, overshooting again, and clenches her jaw. It’a like trying to reprogram her brain, trying to plug tangled wires in different places, all while she keeps getting reminded that this is only happening because of a failure on her part. Her Keyblade isn’t coming when she calls to it, so now she gets to live when this. Saïx gets up and observes her introspection with a puzzled face. She glances at him, then figures there’s no better way to learn.

“Rematch.”

He blinks.

“Hm? Are you sure?”

She nods, fiercely.

“Yes. And don’t hold back this time.”

The words feel strange leaving her mouth. She frowns for a moment, feeling a strange feeling on the back of her head, but she shakes it off.

“Promise,” she completes, for a reason that is beyond her.

“...Fine.”

Unsure, but unwilling to turn her down, he returns to his position. She feels her chest pound, from the nervousness stemming from what she just asked him to do, but also from her own words. There’s a memory begging to see the light of day, she can feel it, but it’s not strong enough to break through the wall of fog that currently plagues her brain.

Fine. She’s focusing on other things now anyway.

“No holding back,” he repeats, looks at her, and she imagines he’s hoping she’ll take her words back. But she only nods. He holds his breath for a moment, closes her eyes as he does so, then looks at her, eyes as intense as hers.

“Three, two, one… now.”

It takes her a moment to notice he didn’t leap forward like before. Instead, his feet leave the ground and his weapon floats up behind him. His arms are spread to his sides, and she clenches her jaw, realizing what’s coming.

**“Moon, shine down!”**

She darts to him, and an explosion of energy leaves his body before he falls back down and the claymore goes to his hand, now with new fluorescent blades surrounding it. He blocks a strike from her with ease, and knocks her away with a flick of the Lunatic. She slides against the floor and sees his eyes glow before he lunges towards her. A jump back is enough to let her dodge the direct impact, but the claymore hits the ground and a circle of energy expands around it, one that almost catches her foot before she takes one large step back.

Without missing another beat, he uses gravity to his favor and brings it down again, and another circle expands. He dashes towards her, hitting the ground and making that energy spread like ripples through water, and she keeps running backwards, eventually turning to leaps when her she finds her legs too short to cover the distance. With strength, she pushes both of her feet against the ground, launches herself upwards and extends her hand forward.

“Fira!”

The flames hit the ground in front of him and the explosion breaks his chain, knocking him backwards. The grunt that leaves him is louder, more visceral, than anything she’s ever heard from him before. He twists his head up to her, and stares her down in the second it takes her to fall back to the floor. His glowing eyes send a shiver down her spine, but she readies her sword again.

He straightens his back and flicks the claymore forwards, and a blade of light shoots in her direction when he does. She runs towards him, around it, feeling the harsh wind against her skin, and tightens her grip on the handle of her blade. Her arm arches back, and she brings it down on him. The weapons clash, and she’s quick to deliver another blow, and another, enough to make him step back. He lets out a low growl, and pushes her away. She stumbles back and almost doesn’t manage to block the strike that comes afterwards.

He pushes down on the claymore, and her legs shake and pound with pain. Her breath quickens, her throat hurts as the air scrapes its way unto her lungs, but she refuses to yield. Saïx leans forward, and her arms tremble, it feels like she’s holding him over her head and he shows no signs of backing off. Her leg crumbles under the pressure, the same one from before, and she shuts her eyes for a moment, and when she opens them again she sees it, his emotionless face, and her lungs shrink in terror.

_ I’ve got this, it’s fine.  _

Her teeth rattle against each other, and she glances down. Clenching her jaw hard enough to hurt, she ducks and throws herself forwards, rolling under him and feeling the air snap over her as the claymore hits the ground, and not her head, only one inch away. He stumbles forward, and she turns to him again.

_ Don’t overshoot. _

She lands a strike on his back, hears him roar in pain and tries to ignore it, and then another one in quick succession. He stumbles forward another step, and swings himself around in a blow Xion isn’t able to block fast enough.

Her left side screams in pain, she slams back to the ground on her right side and her entire body feels like it’s about to crumble. He turns towards her with no hint of stopping.

_ I can do this. _

Saïx jumps in her direction and lands by striking the ground where she was before dodge-rolling to the side, releasing another wave of energy around it, one she jumps over. He barely turns to her before her attack lands, and in perfect momentum, she swings the blade up again in another blow.

He steps sideways, the claymore falls from his hand and he looks at his palm, stares at it for a  _ second _ she can see in hyperdetail before her brain slows back down, and stumbles over his own leg before falling to the floor. He lands and she can feel the pain in his voice in her own body. She lets go of her weapon, lets it fall to the floor too, and rushes to aid him.

“Saïx!”

_ Oh no, did I over do it? _

“Don’t!” He shouts loud enough that she freezes in place. He struggles to get back up, and like it has a mind of its own, his hand slithers towards the fallen Lunatic. He lets out a dry gasp and falls (or throws himself?) to the side, and curls up, clutching the ground with the hand that is close to his weapon and his face with another. The claymore disappears, and heavy breaths leave him.

“Saïx?” Her voice comes out scrambled, unstable and weak.

A knot forms on her throat, and she stands there, watching him eventually stop trembling, only to stop moving entirely if not for the subtle, shaky, rise and fall of his chest. She steps closer, and his lack of reaction is enough to push her to kneel next to him.

“Saïx,” she says, again.

He closes his mouth and stops gasping for air in response, and removes the hand from his face.

_ His eyes look terrible. _

The knot grows when he looks at her, sweat dripping from his face and dirt clinging onto him due to his fall. He looks down at the floor again for a moment, and his eyes just look so  _ tired. _

“Yield,” he whispers, and rolls over on his back, then groans from the pain of the wounds there. He keeps his eyes closed, and lets his arms lie on the ground without any pretense of looking alive. She sits down next to him, biting the inside of her lips hard enough they could bleed, and takes a quiet breath that could have turned into a sniffle if she wasn’t careful.

“Can I…?” She says, barely hearable through the already quiet wind of the wasteland. He turns to her and opens his eyes. A pained sigh leaves him when he does so, and it turns into a questioning hum.

“Help you,” she says, swallows the pain threatening to climb up to her face, and then explains, “Cure.”

“You d…”

The moment he says anything, her eyes water more and she bites her lips trying to will the crying away through pain. She  _ did  _ this, she has no right to make him feel bad because of it. He looks at her, his voice drifts off and his mouth thins into a line. After taking a deep, deep breath, he pushes his arm against the floor, propping himself up for a moment before his elbow slips and he hits the floor again. Air leaves his lungs through gritted teeth. Xion flinches like it hurts her more than him, and curls inward when he tries again.

He repeats the process, pressing his elbow against the floor, lifting his upper body up like it weights more than all of the rocks around them combined. He shuts his eyes in pain, and his arm shakes like a leaf, and slips again, and Xion grabs his shoulder before he hits the ground. She doesn’t have nearly enough strength to pull him up now, but his hand grabs her arm for support. The look on his face makes it clear he did it out of reflex, but he looks at her, and even though he can’t see her eyes, it’s enough for him to not let go and let himself fall again.

Slowly, he sits up, crossing his legs as he does, and lets go of her once he’s stable enough and puts his hand behind him. Xion’s hand lets go of him, too, and hovers over his back as a healing light comes from it. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, as the pain dulls, and she lets her head fall to the side, onto his shoulder. His head snaps to her in a flash, and his breathing stops. She feels his confused stare on her, and her only response is no hide her face by burying it on him.

“Xion,” he says, and she can feel his arm hovering awkwardly behind her.

“Sorry…”

“No, that wasn’t…” He pauses, presses his lips together, “it wasn’t your fault.”

Her knees go to her chest, and she lets her hand settle on his back.

“I don’t like,” she pauses, tries to swallow down tears and fails, then continues anyway when one escapes her, “I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

There’s a deafening silence for some time, until it’s broken by a sniffle. His arm wraps around her shoulders, finally, and the smallest amount of tension seems to leave her body when it does.

“If anything it was on me,” he says, “I didn’t… leave you much choice.”

The words come out confused, like he’s not sure what he’s saying really happened, and she looks down, pressing the side of her head on him.

_ I asked you not to… _

After a moment of hesitation, his grip on her shoulder tightens. She takes one shaky breath.

“What was that?” She asks, before rubbing her eye with her free hand.

“Hm?”

“You, just now, it looked awful.”

“I…” His voice fades, she feels his breathing stop for a moment, and the reply never comes. Too tired, too weak to pry him for answers this time, she just shuffles closer to him. If she was in any state to, she’d notice how he freezes when she does so, how he looks down at her with eyes wide, and hurting. Still, after an eternity, he pats her shoulder, and the sniffling eventually goes away.

He looks behind him, his long hair getting on her face and tickling her nose when he does, and stays silent. She blinks enough times that her vision clears, and feels something warm on her back. Looking ahead, for a moment, she sees their shadow stretching for what feels like miles, and the sky is…

“Xion?”

She looks up at him, brushing his hair away from her face, and without looking down or speaking a word, he gestures at something behind them with his head. She pauses, for a moment, before pulling away from his shoulder to look at whatever it is.

“You said you like sunsets, right?”

Behind them is a beautiful gradient of a sky, going from red to orange to gold, with clouds reflecting the sunlight in a way that makes them look like brush strokes in a canvas. He lets her shoulder go, and she turns to face it completely, not bothering to dry her face before she gazing at the horizon. It brings her back, brings a warmth to her chest, and a sad smile to her face. Saïx turns around himself, taking in the view. She brings her hands to her chest, and if she doesn’t have a heart, she has something close enough to it that it feels the same.

She feels eyes on her, and looks at Saïx. It’s there again, the rare but fond smile that’s been popping up more often. It, too, warms her heart, or her heart look-a-like, and she rests her head on his shoulder. He lets out a small noise of surprise, and this time, she’s more than ready to laugh at it.

“I told you it’s better with friends.”

She sees it, despite his best efforts: he brings the hand further away from her to his chest, and looks down at it. His touch against it is hesitant, his hand trembles for a moment. She watches him as he then looks at his palm, then closes his hand, and places it back on the floor behind him. He leans back on it, and looks up at the sky again.

“It is.”

The answer brings her a familiar glee, and a gentle silence settles in. She forgot to ask him about her other friend again in her worrying, but… it’s fine, she can leave it for later. Saïx will always be around to answer. She knows that, deep in her chest.

“If they ask me to train you again, we don’t have to actually do it,” he says, staring straight ahead.

“But I do want to get stronger,” she says, and squishes her cheek on him, “to get my Keyblade back, to protect everyone.”

“Protect?”

“Yeah. When I get my other friends back, I can’t let anything happen to them. I can’t let anything happen to you either.”

The constant pauses whenever she speaks of him are endearing. She wonders how this is the same person who was fighting her just some minutes ago.

“Well, I’ll be counting on you.”

She hums in agreement, and after a quick nuzzle on his shoulder, she leans away from him and sits up straight, staring at the scenery. He glances at her, and it turns into a stare. If she were to be honest, she’s getting used to the Saïx stares, considering any hint of social interaction seems to leave him stunned, but… this feels different.

Xion turns to him, and he has his mouth slightly opened in surprise, and his eyes are wide. She tilts her head, something that she figured would get him to stop, or at least explain, but he stays silent. He closes his mouth and a frown reaches him, and his eyes move around in her face, before settling on her eyes.

On her eyes, not somewhere vaguely near them, not on some invisible wall in front of her. On her eyes.

They widen, too, and he finally snaps out of it, and blinks.

“Saïx?”

“I, sorry, you…” He’s baffled, and just can’t stop looking at her. “Your… face.”

_ I didn’t imagine it! _

A big smile appears on her face.

“You can see me!”

“Yes, now I can, I…” He looks away for a moment, only to look at her again, “Sorry.”

She wraps her arms around his in glee, and hugs it with affection that is clearly overwhelming the adult man it is being directed at into oblivion.

And they watch the sun set.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was listening to kh music while writing this and  
> 1\. writing xion close to tears with tears of the light in the background made me want to start crying  
> 2\. musique pour la tristesse de xion playing as i wrote the last few paragraphs also made me want to start crying  
> 10/10 would do it again


	5. V. Vessel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saïx discovers the real meaning of his purpose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shout out to the silent hill 1 ost for helping me out with this one
> 
> also ill start doing chapter summaries now. if i remember. ill try. they'll all say nothing but ill try  
> maybe one day ill even go back and give them titles. maybe not  
> again forgive any typos or strange wording that might have slipped through editing. i am a simple person it is 11pm and i just wanna post this

It took Saïx all of the strength left in his soul to tell Xion they should get going after they stared at the sun for what felt like hours. And he got to see every inch of her subtle disappointment on her face. Still, she was anything but sad: her blue eyes were shining, not because of the tears, but because of a simple happiness. The smile didn’t leave her face when he told her they couldn’t watch the sunset anymore. Her arms only tightened around his own, and she said “okay”.

Her smile. Her mouth was the only part of her face he’s been able to see for a while, but seeing her lips curl up and her cheeks curve upward, finally getting to see the eyes whose existence he used to doubt, and noticing her blue is not quite the same as Roxas’ (it’s warmer, closer to purple)... it’s clear, now, how many of her emotions were been hiding behind that shadowy curtain. And those are emotions, he has no doubt about it. They are real, so genuine he keeps mimicking them without noticing, like he’s a dry sponge and she’s a  _ fountain. _

They’re in the corridors, now, heading back. She’s walking besides him with excitement that beats her joyful strides in Arendelle by a mile. For once, the pain he’s feeling is coming mostly from actual wounds. The ones in his back still hurt, but thanks to Xion’s magic, they’re tolerable. His problem is with the rest of his body. Everything hurts, either because she gave him a hard whack or because he overexerted himself. He’s not sure.

He blinks.

_ I’m not sure. _

Half the fight didn’t feel real. He tries to remember it, but his mind gives him only blurred glimpses of it, none of which include him falling, and none of which include her giving him the injuries on his back, either. He remembers the start, the first few clashes, then…

His head goes light, and he stops walking, raising his hand to hold his head. It feels like his brain just vanished from his skull. It’s far from the only time this has happened today.

“Saïx?” She calls out, for the umpteenth time just in the past few hours, and for the first time he can see all of the worry plain in her face when he looks at her.

“Tired,” he says, then closes his eyes, focusing on keeping himself up. If he collapses again and has to deal with the image of Xion crying next to him twice in the same day he really might just give up on forgiveness and die. Opening his eyes, he notices she’s taken a few steps towards him, and her worried looks are  _ so much worse _ when he can see those big eyes staring right at his soul.

“Is that really all? You’re really weird today.”

Her spiky black hair shifts as she peers up at him, and his lungs just about stop working.

_ Lea dealt with this? Every day? _

Somehow, he can understand why he would, Saïx himself wouldn’t trade it for the world. But as well-intentioned and kind Xion might be, she’s really a few worried faces from summoning his heart from wherever it is right now, and ripping it to shreds right in front of him. And he wouldn’t blame her.

“Yes,” he says.

“You’re really bad at lying.”

He gets to hear the hurt in her voice  _ and  _ see it with his own two eyes. His head turns away in a defense mechanism, and she takes a tiny step towards the direction he’s facing. He can see her frown worsening from the corner of his eye, and remembers how much better Lea was than him at dealing with people. He remembers, because while he’s sure the man that has been banned from his thoughts in recent memory could worm his way out of this encounter, Saïx can’t. He can’t, and he knows, and so does she.

“It feels like you’re zoning out a lot more… which is saying something,” she says, and the tease comes with a small smile.

He blinks, doing his best to focus his eyes at the darkness they’re pointed at, and they don’t obey him. It takes him a moment to notice it happening, because the corridors of darkness aren’t exactly known for their light interiors, but his vision fades for a moment. It feels like something’s pulling him back from himself, and he has to clench his hand in a fist to make sure he can still feel it. Apparently, he wavered, because when he can see again, Xion is in front of him with her arms ready to catch him. No smile is on her face, she’s biting her lips.

“Don’t cry again,” he says. It should have been a thought, but it made a wrong turn, missed his brain and escaped right out of his mouth.

The remark, the  _ plea, _ does nothing to help soothe her worries, because of course it doesn’t.

“What’s up with you?”

He isn’t quite sure himself. He’s had spouts of lightheadedness before, but nothing quite to this level. His body feels fake, moving his limbs right now requires an unreasonable amount of brain power, and sometimes his muscles don’t respond until seconds after he asks them to. Something’s buzzing in his back, a presence, low and droning, and it keeps getting closer, louder. But never reaches him.

Something brushes against his arm, and it takes him a moment to process it. When he looks at it, he sees Xion’s hand carefully placed on on him. Her touch is light, like she’s afraid she might hurt him. He puts his hand over hers and pulls her away from him, gently, and she looks at him with an expression not unlike the one she had when she was kneeling next to him.

It hurts him, but her worry warms his chest. The ghost of a smile appears on his face, and he lets go of her hand to place his on the top of her head. Her hair is a mess from the fight, but it’s soft to the touch. He puts no pressure on her, but she squishes down for a moment in surprise, and lets out a tiny noise, one that heats up his chest further. The droning sound gets muffled.

_ She’s so sweet. _

Maybe it’s not so surprising that Axel spent his days fussing over her and Roxas’ safety. Saïx himself was starting to do the same. He gives her head a few pats, aware that he’s messing up her hair even more, and lets his hand fall to his side again.

“I just need to get some sleep.”

Xion tries, and fails, to get her hair into an acceptable state, and looks up at him. The worry is still there, he doesn’t think it will leave her today, but it’s softened.

“Okay.”

They make their way back to the castle in silence. He can’t help but notice she walks glued next to him. That, too, brings a smile to his face.

 

When they get back, she gives him the most incredulous huff once he tells her to go to her room.

“Where are  _ you _ going? You said you should sleep!”

Her arms are crossed, and she’s trying her best to stare some shame into him. It works, as it always does, but he has responsibilities that he can’t get away from by just saying a teenager he’s not supposed to care about bullied him into getting proper rest.

“I need to report back.”

“Can’t I do that instead?”

He tilts his head. Technically, she can. But Xemnas might get suspicious at her having enough consciousness to do it herself, without him, and that’s the last thing Saïx wants to happen. They’ve been under the radar until now due to the sheer amount of things in motion around them, there is no need to put her under the line of fire of Xemnas’ eyes. Even in a situation where they weren’t actively trying to betray him, Saïx would want him as far away from her as possible.

“No.”

She probably knows he’s lying, but the finality of his voice is enough to make her puff her cheeks in defeat, and let out a big sigh. He frowns at it, her hands fall to her sides again, and she turns to walk to her room.

“Good night,” he calls out.

She pauses, looks back at him with her eyes wide, and then smiles.

“Night!”

Xion then hurries down the corridor and disappears from his view. He stares at where she stood, for a moment, before turning his attention to the room’s other exit. Any echo of emotion in his face leaves, and he clenches his jaw for a few seconds before making his way to the office.

 

He arrives in quiet steps, reaching the light coming out of the room’s open door in silence. He sees Xemnas and Ansem there, sat down at the table, discussing something about Sora he can’t quite parse before Ansem turns to him. Xemnas remains seated, and Ansem gets up to take a step towards him.

“A guest.”

Xemnas turns to him as well, those familiar golden eyes greeting him with the usual cryptic aura. Saïx narrows his eyes the smallest amount, holds his breath, then steps into the room.

“Xemnas, Ansem,” the respect hurts to leave his mouth, “I come here to report on Xion’s progress.”

Ansem crosses his arms, giving him a frown.

“You’re late. Again.”

“Now, let him speak,” says Xemnas, getting up from his seat and walking past Ansem. He glances at the other man, before gesturing towards Saïx and looking at him directly, “How is our puppet doing?”

The words, spoken in droning frequency, twist in Saïx’s stomach. He feels the smoke of ache in his lungs when he gathers air to speak, but he pushes through it. Or tries to, at least.

“It’s performing well, and adapting to its new weapon.”

“What kind of training did you give it?” Asks Xemnas.

“Blocking attacks, at first,” the stares on him are like headlights pointed at his face. Xemnas in particular seems determined to track his every movement, so he tries to turn into a statue as he speaks, “Then counter attacking. Eventually we had a match.”

Ansem lets out a scoff, and Saïx turns to him with a frown.

“How did that go?” He asks.

Saïx blinks, for a moment, recalling the first fight they had, the one he could actually remember most of.

“I won, but Xion put up a good fight.”

The image of her slamming into the ground and hissing in pain, it hurts him. Her face was still a mystery to him when it happened, but imagining what her expression must have been like then… it’s unpleasant to think about.

“Well, I’m glad you did, or I’d have some concerns,” Xemnas says.

Saïx has nothing to say to that.

“Say, Saïx,” Xemnas turns away and walks back further into the room, and Saïx feels no need to follow. His former leader puts his hand on the chair where he was seated before, then turns his head back to Saïx. Ansem watches all of this with an expression Saïx can’t read. “How have you been feeling lately?”

Alarm bells ring in Saïx’s head. He crosses his arms, hoping the stress that just crashed down on him won’t show through in his movements, and keeps quiet for a moment, eyes narrowing despite his best efforts. Looking at Xemnas makes his restlessness worse, so he glances at the shelves, filled with reports he once helped organize. He clenches his jaw, then relaxes it, and with each second of silence, his chest struggles more and more to make room for oxygen.

“Not any different than usual,” he lies, and turns back to face him. Ansem’s stare on him intensifies, and he ignores him.

A smile reaches Xemnas’ face, a hollow one. And, as if on cue, it happens again: any weight inside his skull vanishes, his entire body is hit with a wave of numbness, and his vision turns into an abstract painting twirling into black. He tries his hardest to glue his feet to the ground, to subtly grip his arm grasping for stability, but he has no idea how successful he’s being at staying still. A low chuckle from Xemnas tells him that he’s failing, and Saïx struggles to open his eyes to look at him.

“Are you sure?” Xemnas asks.

_ What did you do to me? _

He fixates on the shelves again as well as he can, through the static spots twirling in his vision, and reaches into his brain for memories. When? How? He awoke in his room today already struggling to walk without stumbling over himself, so it must have been during the night, or before. 

_ Before…? _

The day before? He told Xion to get some rest, then Xemnas entered the meeting area. They talked about… something. His head fogs, he tries to shake it off and it barely has any effect. The weight missing in his head is replaced by excruciating pain, and he shuts his eyes trying to will it away. A memory comes, not from yesterday, but from many years ago. He was small enough that he had to twist his head up to look at their leader, and he remembers it: Xemnas reached out, placed the tip of his fingers on his face, and something rushed into him like water flooding a village. That’s when it started, the low buzzing he’s become so accustomed to that he stopped hearing it until today.

He twists his head up at Xemnas, now aware that he’s hunched over and that he brought his hands to hold his head by instinct, and sees that Xemnas is observing him. If he was stupid enough to think the man in front of him could feel anything, he’d say he looks like he’s pleased with himself.

“Xemnas,” Ansem calls. Xemnas turns to him, and gives him a nod.

And just like that, Saïx can hear Ansem leaving the room, and sees Xemnas following him, not sparing him a glance.

“Get some rest, Saïx. You are dismissed from writing today’s report,” he says, infuriatingly numb, like he doesn’t know what’s causing Saïx’s torment.

Saïx is left alone, and he stumbles back until his hand brushes against the open door. He scans it by touch until he finds the handle, wraps his fingers around it, then slams the door shut in a loud and sharp thud. Then he stumbles forward, his legs give out under him and his knees hit the ground and scream in pounding pain. His head lowers to the ground, and the buzzing turns into screeches, his hands grasp he base of his neck, clawing at his skin trying to get whatever is inside him  _ out. _

_ A vessel. _

He remembers the words coming out of Xemnas mouth once, he remembers Xehanort saying it, Xigbar, all at different points in time, and its meaning finally, truly sinks in. He presses his forehead against the floor, grips his neck so hard it might break, and holds his breath. He can feel strings pulling him at every joint, he can feel a ghost trying to drag him up, and he curls into himself, much like he did in front of Xion earlier. He recalls that now, though the memory is scrambled.

“Xion,” he says to himself, and his own voice soothes him.

_ If she sees me like this... _

The thought is enough for his hands to slam against the floor. If he can’t do it for himself, if he can’t pull whatever presence is trying to worm its way into his head and rip his body away from him, he can do it so Xion doesn’t have to see him like that again. He can do it so she won’t have to look at him in terror. He traps air inside him and pushes himself up, and while his legs shake, he stays up. The sound of metal in his head intensifies, and he clenches his jaw in heavy breaths. He shuts his eyes.

“Get out,” he growls, low enough that even if he weren’t alone in the room, he’d still be the only one to hear it.

As if it felt spite, the noise goes higher, and his head feels like it’s about to explode.

_ “Get out,” _ he repeats, walking back and slamming into the door that he closed. Eyes shut, hands clawing at the wood behind him, he feels a wall raising around his consciousness, one of his own creation.

That reduces it to a buzz, still loud and unbearable, but not even a fraction of what it was a minute ago. He snaps his eyes open, pupils shrinking at the light and staring at the ceiling, and he sees the twirling spots in his vision again. He blinks, again and again, and each time, they slow down, letting him see a little bit more of the room. Seconds (or minutes, he can’t really tell) pass, and it goes back to being a low, irritating but tolerable droning sound. More time passes, and it persists, but seems to give up on attacking again.

Saïx slides to the floor, and the sky is pitch black when he makes his way back to his room.

 

He’s woken up by a knock in his door after what feels like only 5 minutes of sleep. His eyes struggle to open, and for a moment, he thinks, he  _ hopes _ he imagined the sound. Then it comes, again, and after a moment of gathering his strength, he pushes himself up and sits on his bed.

“What?” He says, loud and clear for whoever just woke him up to hear. Opening that door when he’s sure he looks about as good as his body feels right now is a last resort he hopes he won’t have to turn to.

“I need to speak to you,” Vexen says,

Out of all of the voices he could have heard back, Vexen was far from the worst one. He rests his back on the wall, and lets out a sigh.

“How long can it wait?”

“Preferably no time,” Vexen says, and Saïx feels his eyebrow twitch.

Saïx keeps his mouth shut until he gets an actual answer.

“Ten minutes,” Vexen says, annoyance clear in his voice. 

“Fine.”

“Go to my lab, then. See you there.”

And as quick as he came, he vanishes down the hallway.

_ I have a headache. _

He rests his skull on the wall for a moment, then remembers Vexen’s laboratory is behind about five minutes worth of twisted hallways and two minutes of long stairs down. He can shorten the trip by three minutes if he uses the corridors. Saïx releases a low groan, and throws himself up.

 

He reaches it, and before he can even open his mouth, he regrets getting out of bed at all.

“Saïx oversleeping. Never thought I’d see the day,” Vexen says.

His eyes narrow and move from the scientist to the one next to him. Sat with his default disgruntled look plastered on his face, is the Riku replica. He shoots Saïx a glare, and it’s enough to convince Saïx to look away. He steps into the room, and is startled by the existence of someone sat on the floor right next to the door.

“Morning!” Xion chirps, hopping to her feet.

Her eyes shine with glee.

“Good morning,” he says, and closes the door behind him with a smile.

He feels Vexen’s eyes on him, and he turns to see why that is. He’s being stared at by a confused expression, and he only raises an eyebrow back at him in response. Vexen takes the hint and moves his attention back to the replica next to him, and Xion shifts closer.

“Are you feeling better?” She whispers, and he appreciates the low volume.

After shooting another glance at Vexen, he turns to her.

“Yes, no need to worry,” he emphasises, a fond expression on his face. She puts her hands behind her, her smile widens, and she nods. His headache fades, the buzzing almost seems to as well. After looking at him for a few seconds, examining his face for signs of exhaustion, she seems content, and turns to the replica in the other side of the room.

“Riku, do you know Saïx?”

The replica raises an eyebrow at her, and looks at Saïx. For the first time, what Saïx gets from his eyes isn’t pure rage, just cautious curiosity. He stares back, frowning himself. Vexen glances up at them for a moment, then gets back to examining the his arm with whatever the device in his hand is.

“Kind of?” He finally answers, giving Saïx one last look before turning back to Xion, “Why?”

“He’s the friend I was talking about!”

The kids don’t notice, but Saïx sees Vexen pause when the words leave her mouth. His eyes meet Saïx’s for a moment, and Saïx gives him no answers. While that silent exchange happens, the replica looks back at him, and tilts his head.

“That mean guy?” He says.

“He can be mean, but not always,” Xion says.

_ Thanks. _

“Watch!” She says.

He puts on his best unimpressed face, but his efforts are ruined by Xion wrapping her arms around one of his and pulling him down every so slightly. Vexen turns his whole face and watches it happen with wide eyes, like he’s witnessing a once in a lifetime event, and the glare Saïx shoots back at him makes it clear that if Vexen opens his mouth, it  _ will _ be a once in a lifetime experience. The boy himself looks surprised, too, though not nearly as much as the one next to him. Xion presses her cheek on his shoulder and looks up with a mischievous grin. She sticks her tongue out at him.

_ You little… _

His chest feels so warm it might melt, despite all of his mind screaming for him to run from this thorough attack on his reputation. It feels… nice. He won’t ever say it, and won’t ever forgive her for dragging him through the mud in front of his accomplice and a stranger like this, but he doesn’t push her away. Absolutely not, that’d be like kicking a puppy.

The replica watches it all with a dazed look on his face, but he looks amused.

“I see,” he says, softer than Saïx has ever heard him. Still, there’s a hint of brattiness in his voice.

_ He’s never forgetting this, is he. _

He swallows whatever’s left of his broken pride, and clears his throat, Xion still attached to him like a koala to a tree.

“Vexen, what did you want to talk about?”

Vexen looks at him, then at Xion, then back at him.

_ If you say anything I’ll kill you. _

“Uh, ah, yes,” he blinks a few times, tries to focus on Saïx’s serious face, then decides he’s better off looking at a wall, “I want to check up on Xion, and need you to tell me how things have been looking from an outsider’s perspective.”

“Seems simple enough.”

Vexen turns back to the replica, avoiding all eye contact with Saïx, for both of their sakes.

“Yes, it is. Give me a moment, and we’ll begin.”

He turns to his endless collection of equipments, chooses one and presses it against the replica’s neck, and his usual frown returns to his face. Saïx feels Xion’s arms loosen, and he looks at her, giving her a questioning gesture with his head once she notices it.

“Vexen’s rude to him,” she whispers. He glances at the replica, then back at her.

“To the replica?”

She pulls on his arm hard enough that he thinks his shoulder might dislocate.

“His name is Riku.”

He blinks.

“I told you he’s not-”

“So what?”

Her eyebrows furrow and her arms do their best to cross with  _ his  _ arm still locked between them.

“I’m a replica too, it doesn’t mean I don’t get a name.”

“You’re different, his memories…”

“Are borrowed? Mine too.”

Saïx opens his mouth to speak, then closes it when she stares daggers into his face. He turns to… Riku, again, and looks at the boy more carefully. If he hadn’t been told from the start that he is a replica, and if he didn’t know about the original’s existence beforehand… he would have never guessed that he isn’t real.

_ Then again… _

He looks at Xion again. She’s real. In a way, he thinks that Xion is more real than him, with actual emotions, and an empathy that continues to leave him speechless. If she’s telling him this Riku is… real, who is he to say she’s wrong?

“...Riku, right,” he says, and her grip on him morphs back into a hug. She smiles for a brief moment, nods, then turns back to the boy. A sigh leaves her, and she leans her head on him. On her face is a worry he’s come to know well. Saïx lets out a sigh too, and awkwardly twists his free arm around himself and gives her a gentle pat on the head.

“I’ll speak to Vexen when I can.”

This isn’t like him, he knows, but Xion always manages to bring him to do the impossible. And the reason why is plain on her face, the smile she gives him is filled with a kindness he hasn’t seen in so long. He can’t say no to that. He never can.

_ Lea probably couldn’t either. _

He smiles, to himself.

“Okay, you’re free to go,” Vexen says, and Riku leaves his seat and brushes some invisible filth off of him. He shoots a glare at Vexen, a glance at Saïx and a softer look at Xion next to him, and walks to the door.

“Bye, Xion. See ya.”

“See you!” She chirps back.

_ She really is special. _

“I’m going to need Xion to sit down here,” says Vexen, who’s bent over on his desk. He’s gesturing at where Riku was just seated, and (mercifully) isn’t looking at either of them, busy writing some things down, “Hands free of… anything, please.”

Saïx can hear Xion’s heart break a little before she lets go of him and makes her way to the seat. Vexen reads over what he just wrote down, seems satisfied, and turns around. The relief in his face when he sees Xion’s already seated is comical, and he finally manages to look Saïx in the eyes again.

“What do you want to know?” Saïx asks, and crosses his arms.

“Quiet, I’ll let you know when I need it,” he shushes him, and Saïx gives him a glare. He catches Xion holding back a giggle, and his shoulders slump, the slow realization that Xion’s image of him has been destroyed completely just in the past few minutes hanging over his head.

He watches intently as Vexen asks Xion to do various tedious things. She stretches her arm out, he checks it with various equipments, and then they repeat the process for the other arm. Saïx leans his back on the wall, and watches them with boredom clear in his eyes.

High pitched ringing starts echoing in his head, and he ignores it.

“So, has she had any trouble walking?” Vexen asks, finally.

“No.”

Vexen glances back at him, irritated, and Saïx has no idea why. He answered the question, and he doesn’t have or particularly care to imitate Vexen’s use of his vocabulary. He clenches his jaw, and just as if he hit a switch, the ringing gets louder. His hands stiffen, he thinks he notices his vision distorting for a moment, but keeps quiet. Looking at Xion, it seems she notices nothing.

“Speech?” Vexen asks.

“Coherent.”

The glance he gives him is shorter this time, and he goes back to examining her left leg. Xion looks at Saïx, and gives him an amused look. Though his head feels lighter by the minute, he gives her a knowing smile back. Vexen gets up to write something down, and she puts a neutral face for a moment, until his back is turned to her. The droning presence pushes at his neck, and he keeps watching Xion, trying to will it away.

_ Not now. Not now. _

“I need more than that. Any stutters, does she repeat herself a lot?”

It comes again, the numbness across his body. More of his weight presses against the wall when his legs start having trouble, and he tries pressing his thumb against his palm. It almost feels like it isn’t there. Static appears on the corner of his vision. Two taps of a pen on the table ground him enough to remember to blink, but not to say anything.

“Saïx,” Vexen taps the pen again.

Xion turns from Vexen to him, and he’s quick to pretend his eyes are focused  _ somewhere  _ and say something.

“She talks like a person.”

“Thank you.”

He’d appreciate the rare politeness, if he was in any state to. Vexen writes something down, and Saïx lifts his head, hoping it looks like he’s looking at the ceiling, and not just pressing his skull against the wall, trying to feel anything.

“Now, Xion,” Vexen says, and pulls her attention to him. Saïx closes his eyes, and opens them, only to feel his hand move. Someone else uncrosses his arms, and tries to take a step forward, but Saïx leans his weight back, and it only looks like he’s shifting in place in boredom. It feels like metal panging in his head, like something screeching. If he could feel his hands, he would notice they’re shaking.

Looking down, it seems that Xion isn’t looking at him. He  _ hopes _ she isn’t, he can’t really tell, his vision’s twirling too much, he can’t see her head. Through the screeches in his head, he hears Vexen, asking Xion something that doesn’t sound important. She replies, he thinks he hears his name in the middle of the sentence, but neither of them turn to him, so he doesn’t waste the energy trying to decipher it. His eyes close.

He crosses his arms again, locks them together this time, and forces his eyes open. He looks at somewhere on the floor, and can just barely see the patterns in it. He focuses on a point, and while he feels something pushing down on him like the planet’s gravity just doubled, he grits his teeth and pushes through it.

_ Out. _

A screech.

_ Out. _

Something like a hole, forming at the back of his neck.

_ Out. _

It recedes just enough that he’s able to hear Xion’s footsteps approaching him, and look up at her general direction. He sees a Vexen shaped blur on the back of the room, and he assumes he’s writing more things down. Xion looks up at him, cheerful, oblivious.

“Bored?”

He blinks.

_ Not here, not now. _

“You could say that,” he whispers. She tilts her head at it a bit, but he forces a smile and she returns him a genuine one.

His conviction either gets stronger the more he looks at her, or her presence soothes his nerves in a miraculous fashion. Either way, the screech morphs back into a high, irritating, but manageable buzz. Rubbing his thumb against his palm, again, he can feel a hint of something. He breathes in, and out, his vision clear a bit.

“Everything okay?” He asks.

“You were  _ that  _ zoned out?” She giggles, it heals him.

“Perhaps.”

It’s a low, droning sound again.

“She’s fine, everything’s going as normal,” Vexen puts his pen down and, looking up at him, Saïx can see him just fine, “And you two have the rest of the day free, my courtesy. You’re welcome.”

Saïx narrows his eyes at him, and Xion pounces at the sign of weakness. Just like that she’s on his arm again. Vexen looks at her, then at him, and Saïx has absolutely no energy to send him his death glare. So Vexen smiles, smugly, and Saïx feels ready to die.

“What do you mean?” Saïx asks, voice flat.

“I told Ansem I had no idea how long this would take, so they assigned you no tasks today.”

“Oh… I see.”

He hears the door open behind them, and before he can even worry about it being someone else ready to witness his humiliation at the tiny hands of Xion, she dashes out and drags him with her, letting him go once they’re out and thus almost flinging him forwards. She doesn’t know it, but Saïx hasn’t quite recovered, so he almost stumbles forward into the wall. He manages to put his hand on it first, though.

“Oh, shoot, sorry!”

He blinks at her, then looks up to Vexen’s amused face, and decides to ignore him again.

“What was that for?” He asks her. Vexen closes the door, and the duo’s left alone in the hallway.

Her smile widens.

“Are you going to do anything today?”

“I don’t have anything planned, no.”

Going back to his room and sleeping for a few more hours sounds nice, though.

_...I sound like Axel. _

A sigh escapes him, but Xion doesn’t seem to notice. She looks at him, tilting her head with an adorable smile on her face, like she wants something from him.

“Do you?” He asks.

“I’m going to where we trained yesterday.”

_ Does she want more training…? _

The reason doesn’t really matter to him.

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“I’m asking if you want to come with me!”

He smiles.

“Of course.”

She grins at the response, and opens a portal next to them. He realizes that’s the first time he’s seen her use them since her resurrection. She hops in, he follows her, and they start walking in the darkness.

“Do you know the way?” He asks.

“Got it memorized!”

The words slam into him so hard they knock the air out of his lungs. He brakes, and after a few steps forward Xion stops too. Not to look at him, though. She stays still for a few seconds, then looks at her hands, and places one of them on her chest. Saïx can do nothing but watch, air caught on his throat, hoping she’ll return to walking without saying anything.

But dealing with Xion is never that easy for him, is it?

She turns to him, a melancholy that wrecks his chest on her face. Her hand still lingers on her heart.

“Can you tell me about my other friend?”

He looks at her, at her face, and he can feel himself mimicking the sad eyes in front of him. He looks away, feeling a rock inside him, weighing him down. He opens his mouth to say something, but he can’t force words out of him. The hole in his chest, it aches.

“Please?”

She takes a tiny step forward, holding both of her hands together in front of her. Despite not looking at her, he can feel her desperation stabbing him in the chest, and there’s nothing he wants to do more than make it stop, but trying to open his mouth to say something makes his lungs fill with sand, trying to think of what to say makes the sand turn into needles.

“He was,” she pauses for a moment, puts both of her hands on her chest, and looks down, “tall, he, I think he had spiky hair, spikier than Roxas’. He looked after us. I think he…”

A small grunt leaves her and she holds her head in pain. Saïx’s attention snaps to her and he hurries to her, arms hovering around her unsure of what to do.  Her hands grasp at her hair so strongly it looks like she’s about to rip it out of her head in frustration.

“I miss him, I miss both of them,” she says, voice dangerously close to cracking. It hurts.

“I’m sorry.”

She looks up at him, eyes so sad they gnaw at his soul. Her hands fall from her head, and she brings them together again.

“For what...?”

The question twists at his chest when it leaves her. He looks away, it doesn’t help. But he can’t bear to look at her eyes.

“I… can’t,” he says.

She presses her lips together, and her hands grip at each other with more strength.

“Why?”

He says nothing.

“Why can’t you...?”

The silence continues, and she moves to the side, following his eyes.

“Please, you told me about Roxas, why is he any different?”

The knife twists in his chest in agonizing pain. Her voice is so desperate he can almost feel it himself. He frowns at her.

“You’ll see him again, you’ll see both of them again,” he says, trying his best to offer her comfort, but her expression only worsens. Her hands almost turn into interlocked fists.

“But I don’t remember him,” she says, “I want to remember him before I see him.”

He looks to the floor next to them. Her eyes on him hurt, but when she looks down, defeated, it gets so much worse. She fidgets with her hands, quietly retreating back into her thoughts, and he finds the courage to turn to her and watch her movements. A few seconds pass, and she turns her head to the side for a moment. She blinks a few times, her hands slowly fall next to her, and then she looks at him again.

“You were his friend,” she says.

He can’t breathe.

“Is that why you...?”

He looks away.

The silence weighs down on him while she analyzes his face like he’s an alien she’s never seen before. She takes a deep breath, and it comes out as a sigh. Then, mercifully, she turns her back to him.

“Let’s keep going,” she says.

He stays quiet, and follows behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have many thoughts on how it feels to get norted


	6. VI. Remembrance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xion remembers.

Saïx’s face when she told him she just wanted to hang out was hilarious. He’s so easy to confuse with simple acts of friendship, she doesn’t even have to do it on purpose. She took a seat on the same rock from their training day, and he sat down next to her, one leg crossed on top of the other, after a lot of awkwardness from his part.

They’re quiet now. Xion’s counting the clouds and can feel the nervousness from the man next to her. She’d break the silence, but…

_His friend, his friend… who was he?_

Saïx won’t tell her. And when Saïx keeps his mouth shut on something, she knows he won’t budge. It’s frustrating, especially now.

“Is this really all you want to do?” Saïx asks, looking down at the floor. She turns to him, and he meets her eyes. She senses a bit of guilt coming from him, and for once she understands why. She can’t say she’s not a little angry herself.

She drums her fingers against the rock for a moment, stares up at the sky again, and leans back until she’s laying down. The rock is far from orthopedic, it’s more uncomfortable than it is relaxing, but… why not. Saïx watches her intently. Since he won’t tell her about her tall friend, maybe she can ask him about other things, and he’ll hopefully be more open about them.

So she focuses at the blue above her and tries to fish for glimpses of memories in her brain. Their times at the clock tower… they used to hold something. They… ate something. It was…

“Do you know anything that’s… blue, cold, sweet but salty?” The words leave her as she recalls them. Saïx is quiet for a few moments.

“...Sea-salt ice cream?” He says.

“Yeah!”

She flings herself up on her seat again, and smiles at him.

“Me, Roxas and…” She looks down, “and _him,_ we used to eat it at the clock tower.”

He blinks at that.

“...I used to eat it when I was small,” he says.

“Really?”

She tilts her head at him. Saïx eating ice cream isn’t something she can quite picture. She can’t even picture him when he was younger! 

“Yes, why would I lie about that?” He says.

“I don’t know, I just thought you were too mean to eat something with sugar in it.”

He rolls his eyes, a smile on his face.

“It’s sweet _and_ salty,” he corrects.

“Oh, just like you! Mean but sweet.”

He flinches at that, and she laughs. She swears she sees his face getting warmer and it’s absolutely hilarious, as well as awkwardly endearing. She crosses her legs up on her seat and turns her body to him, which he reacts to by looking away.

“You know, I think he couldn’t take compliments either,” she says.

After taking a moment to recover from her kind words, he turns to her again. He tries to hide it, but…

_He looks so sad._

“I believe it.”

It looks like the words hurt when they leave him. She smiles, sadly. That’s something, at least.

“Why don’t you want to talk about him?”

There’s a pause, his hand shifts on his leg.

“Bad memories.”

She tilts her head, but he says nothing else. A frown reaches her and, restless, she leans forward a bit, trying to read his face. Bad memories…? Did that mean her friend did something to him? Weren’t they in good terms? She remembers them being close. Was that not the case anymore?

“Did he hurt you?”

His head snaps to her.

“No,” he says, looks down at the rock they’re sitting on, then repeats, quieter, “No.”

His words come out rushed, confused. She shifts closer, and he looks at her with sad eyes. Tilting her head again worsens his frown, he clenches his jaw and keeps quiet. She doesn’t know how to ask about anything on the subject without sounding rude, but...

“You… sure?” She says, crosses her arms, and analyzes his every movement with careful eyes as she speaks again, “You don’t sound fine.”

His eyes hesitate before looking at hers again. His hands are tense.

“Things went wrong,” he says. Some seconds of silence follow and they nudge him into continuing, “Many things, many my fault.”

Pushing him for details feels cruel, so she leans back again.

“Oh, okay,” she says, “Sorry for… intruding.”

It looks like he wants to say something, but whatever it is, he gives up on it and looks back at the floor. Xion herself looks up at the sky, going back to admiring the clouds. She wants to know more, definitely, but Saïx isn’t the source that’s going to give her answers this time. She has to wonder what happened between Saïx and whoever it is that keeps dodging her memories no matter how hard she tries, what Saïx supposedly did. Part of her thinks it might involve her, too, somehow. Maybe it has something to do with why, sometimes, looking at Saïx makes her feel like horrible memories are threatening to break through her brain at any moment. 

One of the clouds she’s watching twirls, and she knows it’s just her imagination going wild, but it takes a shape resembling a seashell. Xion smiles at it, then sighs. She remembers that she used to gift seashells to Roxas when he felt sick, and he did the same to her.

The memory of her friend makes her bite the inside of her mouth. She had made him destroy her… because with her around, Sora couldn’t wake up. Because her existence was an anomaly that had to be fixed. She had made peace with it, and she would make the same choice again now, but… Her memory issues come from that decision, don’t they? If she didn’t die in the first place she wouldn’t have to be revived in another body, without her original heart.

“Why did you bring me back?” She asks Saïx, watching the cloud twirl again, like cotton candy in the making.

“An apology.”

She looks at him again. He’s still fixated on the floor, tapping his fingers restlessly.

“To?” She asks.

He takes a deep breath.

“You, him, and Roxas.”

So he’d done something to Roxas too, then?

_Where is he right now, anyway?_

She has a feeling she knows the answer.

“Is Roxas with Sora too?”

Saïx gives her a weak nod.

“His heart is with him. He has no body right now. Vexen and I are working on a way to give him one.”

“You could have told me that from the start,” she says. Frustrated, but it doesn’t show much.

“I wasn’t sure how much I should tell you.”

“Why not just… all of it, from the beginning?”

A sigh leaves him, it feels like an eternity passes before he speaks again.

“I didn’t know where to start. And we weren’t close then. You’re better off remembering yourself.”

Her jaw tenses.

“Do you _want_ me to remember?”

_Because it doesn’t feel like it._

His silence only worsens the atmosphere. She lets out a deep breath, and decides to lay back down on the rock, letting her head hang on the edge of it. She feels his eyes on her, hesitant, sorrowful, but he says nothing and looks away again. Xion closes her eyes, feeling her head get pulled by gravity, and goes back to trying to remember _anything._

What will she do, if she meets her friend again, and has no memory of him? Could she even call herself a true friend then? What if something goes wrong and she never sees him again? Will her memories with him, the only thing that would bring her comfort then, be lost forever? It hurts to think about. Forgetting a friend, it…

_… They forgot me._

The realization crashes down on her and interrupts any other thoughts she was having. Time stops for a moment, and she remembers a quiet blond girl explaining it to her. If she went back to Sora, everyone would have their memories of her erased. It would be like she never existed. If she forgot them too, then, any evidence that they ever knew each other at all is gone.

_I told myself I’d never forget them._

_And I still…_

She finds it hard to breathe.

“Saïx, how did you remember me?” Her anxiety shows through her words.

He turns his attention to her, observes her for a moment.

“The reports,” he says, “I had full access to them. You were mentioned a lot, even wrote some yourself. It was enough to not let me forget you existed completely.”

“Completely?”

“Until you woke up again, it was still hazy.”

She clenches her jaw.

“Everyone else forgot me.”

“Before seeing you again, yes.”

“My friends.”

Silence.

“They don’t know who I am, or that I exist.”

A second passes.

“No,” he says.

Her eyes close when he answers, and she retreats to her thoughts. She made peace with it back then, but forgetting all about it only to find out again just after she started remembering her friends, it feels like a cruel joke. She’s been thinking this whole time that when this is all over, she can meet back up with them in their usual spot. Now it’s like that’s been ripped away from her before her eyes. Her chest feels hollow. Her head’s staring to hurt after hanging upside-down for so long.

“Don’t lie down like that, it’s bad for you,” he says.

Xion lets out a vague groan in response. She hears him getting up, then feels the skin on her face get a little bit colder, as the sunlight that was shining on it disappears. She opens her eyes to see Saïx standing next to her, arms crossed, eclipsing the sun. She sticks her tongue out for a second, he softens at it, then kneels next to her. Gently, he then pushes her head back on the rock. She squishes her face on it as she feels her head light again.

It’s not very pleasant.

“Ugh.”

“That’s why you don’t do it,” he says.

Xion puffs her cheek at him. A silent chuckle leaves him, a fond smile on his face, but she doesn’t find the strength in her to return it. In response, he frowns himself.

“They’ll remember you when they see you,” he says.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do, because that’s what’s happened every time someone sees you.”

“No, but,” she starts, swallows the knot on the throat and continues, “N… the blond girl, she…”

“Naminé?”

“Naminé, yeah,” Xion clings to the name and finds the strength to prop herself up on her elbows, “She told me everyone with connections to me would forget me. I… It’s like, the more you know me, more gets erased, more connections get cut. Then it’s harder to rewire them again after, because they’re all a tangled mess.”

Saïx listens to her with eyebrows furrowed, but has nothing to say, so she continues.

“You remembered me that fast because there wasn’t much to reconnect. They won’t…”

“Xion, you don’t know that either.”

“I know more than you!”

It comes out snappier than she intended. He gives her a pained look and she drops her gaze, gripping the rock she is on. Her breathing is unstable, her chest hurts _so much._

Back then, she was okay with knowing they would forget her, because she was taking those memories with her. At least she could die with them, and in a way, be with them forever. They could continue their lives without the pain of loss, and Sora could wake up. Now she’s here, alive again, no reason to die once more. And she should be happy, but the things that made her live worth living back then are nowhere to be found.

Saïx sighs, and pushes himself up. What he was getting up for, Xion doesn’t get to find out: he stumbles back a few steps when he tries to stand up. At first she thinks he only tripped over his own feet, but looking at him for a few more seconds shows it’s another one of his recent string of.... Incidents.

She hops to her feet and runs to him, while he holds his face in pain. He looks at her, opens his mouth, then closes it. A silent conversation is shared, and he just settles on trying to deal with whatever it is that’s plaguing him. He hold his head, and she watches it at a loss of what to do. Her jaw hurts from how tense it is.

Saïx’s hands eventually let go, but still hover near his face. He’s looking at the ground, focusing at nowhere in particular. Xion sighs, then opens a portal next to her, one he doesn’t even react to. Slowly, gently, she reaches out and wraps her fingers around his wrist. He doesn’t react, almost as if he can’t feel it, and she gently tugs him forward. After an involuntary small step forwards, Saïx recoils and digs his feet into the ground in distress.

“Come with me,” she says.

He blinks a few times, looks at his wrist with her hand on it, and keeps quiet. She pulls him forward again, and he doesn’t resist this time. She steps into the portal and he keeps quiet while she does the half of the work of moving for him. After a few minutes of slow walking, she feels him start carrying more of his own weight.

“Xion, where are we…?” His voice is weak, and doesn’t make it through the entire question.

“You’ll see.”

The silence comes back and stays for the rest of the short trip back to the castle. He tries to struggle out of her grip once, but Xion just holds on tighter and he gives up fairly fast.

Once she opens the portal back to the castle, she pokes her head out of it to check if anyone is in the meeting area. After confirming that they are alone, she drags Saïx out with her, and proceeds to make her way to the hallway that leads to their respective rooms. Saïx seems to realize what she’s doing, and brakes again.

“Xion, I’m fine.”

“I knew you’d say that,” she groans and snaps her head back to him, “No you’re not.”

She pulls his arm and they continue walking. After walking a few steps past her own room, she pauses.

“Where is yours?”

“Xion.”

“Saïx.”

She turns to him again, and he yields.

“Two more doors,” he says.

“Thank you.”

She walks two more doors worth of distance forwards, finally lets him go, and spins on her heel to face him, hands on her hips. He looks down at her, tired and confused, rubbing his wrist.

“Get some rest,” she says, _orders,_ and gestures towards the door.

He opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a sigh. She stares him down enough that he puts his hand on the handle of the door, but he hesitates before opening it.

“What are you doing today?”

She hasn’t really thought about it yet.

“I don’t know. I won’t cause any trouble.”

He frowns at her, she frowns back, and he opens the door.

“If you need me…” He says.

“Yeah, I’ll come get you,” she says, then waves him off.

With one last second of hesitation, he enters his room.

Xion stands there for a few extra seconds to make sure he won’t come out, then makes her way back to the meeting area.

 

Sat on the couch, and alone for the first time since reawakening, Xion stares at the ceiling. She’s sank enough in her seat that her head doesn’t go past the couch’s back, and she has her arms crossed deep in thought, dwelling on her earlier conversation with Saïx. She wants her memories back. She’ll be able to bear the pain of being forgotten if she can have them back.

But how she’ll go about it, she has no idea. Asking anyone is out of the question right now. She thought about asking Vexen, but his lab is locked, so he is either busy or not there at all. Riku is the only other person she feels slightly comfortable around, as brief as their conversation was, but he would be of no help here.

“Oh, what are you doing here?”

Xigbar’s voice is enough to make her sit up and straighten her back. He just entered the room through the door she’s never gone through before, and waves at her.

“Vexen’s examination is already over?”

She has to wonder what Vexen told them the examination entails. It was over so fast, it hardly warranted them getting a whole day off for it… not that she’ll complain about it.

“Yes,” she answers.

He walks until he’s in front of the couch opposite to her, hands on his hips.

“Where’s your friend? You’re always sticking to him like glue. Or he’s sticking to you, can’t really tell the difference.”

She blinks at the word ‘friend’. Is he trying to make her admit he is one, or is he fishing for a response? She’s not sure, so she tries to ignore it entirely.

“Busy elsewhere,” she says, flatly.

“Well, yeah, Bunnymoon’s always busy with something.”

_Bunnymoon? Really? Bunnymoon._

She’d laugh, in any other circumstance.

“Still,” Xigbar leans forward, eye fixated on her face, “You’re always with him.”

She offers no response. Xigbar gives her a dry chortle before letting himself fall backwards onto the couch.

“It’s weird seeing you two so close, considering how things went.”

Her head moves up in attention, and he grins at that. She grits her teeth. She knows this is a trap, everything is with the guy in front of her, be it with the purpose of embarrassment or something more cruel… But she’s desperate, so she bites the bullet.

“I don’t follow,” she says, careful to maintain the lowest amount of emotion possible.

“Right, you don’t remember!” He taunts, stretching his arms on the back of the couch behind him, “He really hated your guts then, has he told you?”

Her breath catches on her throat. She swallows.

“I don’t see why he would,” she says.

“Tell me about it, once he shuts his mouth he never opens it again,” he says, waving a hand to emphasize his point, before pointing at her, “But I think you deserve to know, Poppet!”

The nickname stings and the sentiment confuses her to no end. But she keeps quiet, hoping he’ll continue. And he does.

“Once you and Tiger started hanging out with Flamesilocks, Saïx just about lost it.”

Her eyes widen, despite herself.

_Tiger is Roxas. So the other…_

“Who?”

“Who what?” He asks, infuriatingly aware.

“Flamesilocks…?” She feels stupid saying it out loud.

His smile widens, and he leans forward, placing his elbows on his legs and resting his chin on one of his hands.

“Axel, Poppet! How come you forgot? I thought you all were besties,” he taunts.

“Axel,” she echoes without meaning to, and the name leaves her after drowning in fog for so long. Her lungs fall to the floor when she hears herself say it. She sees him in her mind: stupidly tall, shaped like a scarecrow, markings shaped like upside down tears on his face, and spiky red hair that gives him extra inches in height the does not need.

_That’s why he calls him Flamesilocks!_

_Xigbar’s nicknames are good for something!_

For a moment, the euphoria of remembering him so quickly made her forget Xigbar is still right there, staring at her, waiting, _fishing_ for a reaction.

“I see,” she says, trying to hide the excitement in her voice.

Xigbar grins. She doesn’t quite understand his side of the conversation. Wasn’t she supposed to be a mindless puppet? Why is he helping her? It bothers her enough to ask.

“Wasn’t I supposed not to remember anything?” She says, “Is me not remembering this ‘Axel’ such a surprise?”

A dry laugh escapes him. He almost looks _proud._

“Sharp as always! Let me tell you a little secret, Xion.”

Her name locks her attention on him. Xigbar watches her with a careful eye before saying anything.

“It doesn’t really matter. To me, at least,” he says, leaning back, putting his legs on the table between them, “In here, we’re all headed to the same end, no matter how much personality you got.”

She tilts her head.

“Xemnas is being careful, but given where this is all going, I know a few memories won’t change a thing,” he says.

She can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing. But it’s enough for her to let a frown slip through, one he smiles at.

“Just look at Saïx for proof,” he says, and she tenses up, “all that personality amounted to nothing when faced with fate.”

“What?”

A low chuckle comes in response. It’s clear, then, that just because Xigbar doesn’t seem to care about her forming a personality, it doesn’t mean he’s going to hand over information easily. Of course he isn’t. She feels her jaw hurt from the stress she’s putting it under. Trying to pry him for clarification on that would be a meaningless task, she knows. So she moves on.

“You said Saïx ‘lost it’ back then. What do you mean?”

“He thinks he doesn’t let stuff show, but you could see it plain as day in the way he glared at you and Roxas. Bunnymoon’s a jealous man.”

“Jealous?”

“Come on, Poppet, do some thinking yourself. You always used to.”

She raises an eyebrow at the backhanded compliment.

“Of us and Axel?”

“Bingo.”

She looks to the side, retreating into her thoughts for a moment. Was it… jealousy? This is new information to her, she never realized it back then. Because she didn’t care to. Though her memories of his cruelty are still blurred and scrambled, she remembers Saïx never showed her any decency, so she didn’t bother trying to look at things his way. She was more preoccupied with her own nature, and with their little trio dismantling from the inside out. If it was jealousy, then, maybe it explains why Saïx doesn’t want to talk about Axel now.

“They were friends, weren’t they?” She asks, turning back to him.

An annoying, noncommittal sound leaves Xigbar’s mouth while he gestures with his hand.

“You could call it that. By the end it was a big messy web of ‘it’s complicated’s that I didn’t care to decipher.”

She taps her fingers against her leg and looks away again.

“What did Saïx do to me, exactly?” She asks, not bringing her eyes back to Xigbar when she does.

“I wonder.”

She shoots him a glare she can’t hold back. He’s having fun watching her struggle to connect the dots in her head, and she hates it.

“Where’s Axel?”

“Axel died a while ago.”

She stops breathing for a moment, feeling a wave of terror wash over her. Her whole chest freezes.

_Died?_

Xigbar chuckles again, and it hits her.

“Where’s his somebody?” She asks, almost growls, but stress leaves her body when he grins at her with the same mix of pride and malice from before.

“Who’s to say.”

_There it is, the brick wall. Again._

At this point, it seems Xigbar’s having too much fun making her run around in circles to give her any more answers. But she can’t stop here. The little bit of knowledge she’s gotten from the encounter is precious, it makes her want more of it. She wants her memories of her friends back completely, she wants them to stop being blurred and vague, she wants to remember their conversations beyond a few common words.

And she wants to know what Saïx’s deal was, back then.

Gears start turning in her brain and Xigbar watches, intently. She can’t ask the other members directly, or they might report her to Xemnas; this conversation is already putting her life on the line more than necessary, considering she trusts Xigbar as far as she can throw him. Asking about her friends is a very direct way to show that she misses them, that she misses traitors.

What else could she turn to, though? There was nothing to do besides asking around.

_The reports._

She blinks, and looks at the door Saïx entered when he said he was going to report back yesterday. Then she remembers Xigbar’s presence, and looks down at her hands.

The reports must include developments in her life, her identity, because she was an experiment. They must include at least a few things about Axel and Roxas that she doesn’t know. Maybe she could even find information on Saïx and Axel’s fallout.

She has to find the reports. Going to where they are handed will probably yield results. But she hasn’t ever handed one herself here, and asking Xigbar right now would be too obvious.

“Excuse me,” she says, and gets up. Xigbar says nothing as she leaves the room.

 

Walking in the dark corridors gives her time to script her lines. Opening a portal once she arrives at her destination, she holds her breath and takes a careful step out. The lab door is opened this time. She starts walking towards it, but then…

“It doesn’t hurt to make an effort, Vexen.”

Saïx’s voice is loud and clear. She freezes in place.

_He’s awake?!_

Frustration overtakes her for a moment, before panic takes its place. She was planning on asking Vexen where reports are handed in, hoping he wouldn’t tell Saïx afterwards. But Saïx is right there, it’s pointless to ask Vexen anything with him around. He’d get suspicious.

She takes a few quiet steps back.

“I don’t understand why you are telling me I should be nice to what amounts to a clone,” Vexen says, and she pauses.

“Xion is friends with Riku, it seems, and I don’t need you making her mad,” Saïx says, “And calling him a clone is disingenuous, given that he is clearly very different from the original RIku.”

A smile reaches Xion’s face.

“I’ll… consider it?” Vexen says, confusion clear in his voice.

Xion takes a few more steps back, before turning around to leave. She reaches her hand out to open another portal, but stops when she hears footsteps approaching from the hallway. Panic settles in for a moment, until she realizes who it is.

“Oh, hey,” Riku says, giving her a wave.

Xion quickly brings a finger to her mouth and shushes him. He raises an eyebrow, and she looks back at the lab door for a moment, then back at him. He looks puzzled for a moment, then nods.

“Hi,” Xion whispers, stepping closer, “What are you doing?”

“Vexen called me to do more examinations,” he says, a hint of distaste in his voice, then crosses his arms. “What are _you_ doing?”

“I, um…” She looks back at the door again for a moment, minding her volume. “I was wondering where we’re supposed to report back?”

Riku tilts his head.

“You have something to report?”

“No, but I want to know in case they send me in a mission alone someday.”

He nods, narrowing his eyes a bit. She knows it’s a weird question, but she trusts him not to go babbling about it to other people. Even if this isn’t the Riku that helped her out a long time ago, he has the same good nature. And while she can’t be sure, she thinks he can see her face, which is always nice.

“Okay, I get it,” he says, letting his arms fall to his side. “When you go to the meeting area, you enter through the hallways that lead to the rooms. But there’s another door, right?”

She nods.

“It’s through there. You walk down the hallway, take a flight of stairs down, and it’s the first door you see. It’s got a bunch of folders, you’ll know when you see it.”

_So there are documents there. Bingo._

“Okay! Thank you!” She chirps, giving him a wide grin, “Don’t tell Saïx or Vexen I asked, okay? They’ll nag me about it.”

He returns her smile.

“Sure.”

“See ya, Riku!” She chirps, opens a corridor and, after he waves her goodbye, leaves.

 

Her stride through the corridors is slow and thoughtful, and she emerges back in the meeting area. Xigbar is nowhere to be found, thankfully. Only Luxord is present, playing the same lonely game she saw him play the day before. It seems that he doesn’t notice her presence. She heads to the door Riku mentioned, as quietly as she can. If Luxord notices her, he says nothing.

She walks down the dark hallway, past a number of other doors she doesn’t want to risk investigating right now. She almost misses the stairs in the darkness. Going down them, they’re far lengthier than the expected, especially when she’s trying to be quiet, and trying not to trip on her own feet.

Reaching their end reveals the door Riku talked about. It is closed, and no light is coming from inside the room. Xion sighs in relief, and looks around her to make sure she is alone. After that, she puts her hand on the handle, turns it and gives it a light push. The door opens without resistance.

She slides in and closes it again, as silently as she opened it, and turns her attention to the room inside. Or tries to, at least. She can’t see anything. But if she were to turn on the lights, it would make her presence obvious to anyone walking by.

She clenches her jaw and materializes a small ball of light in her hand, just strong enough that she can see what’s exactly in front of her face. She puts her other hand on the wall, walking along it careful not to bump into anything as she does, until she reaches the end of it. Her hand brushes over a different material, and putting the light closer to to reveals to her that she has found the binders Riku mentioned.

She strengthens the light for a moment, and is greeted with countless more next to, above and below the ones she just found. She lets it go darker again, and swallows fear.

_This is going to take forever. I can’t risk taking too long here._

She has to find something, anything, fast, before someone comes. She notices something written on the binders. The ones in front of her are labeled ‘XII’.

_We had numbers, is that what this is?_

Her head snaps to the darkness where the other binders are.

_...I was fourteen, Roxas was thirteen, Axel… eight, and Saïx, seven._

She rushes to find the binders with those numbers, running on the tip of her toes as she shines the dim light on them. XI, X, IX…

_Got it!_

She brakes when she sees ‘VIII’, and horror settles in when she realizes just how many are labeled with that number. She swallows, picks one at random, and flips through it. Much like she expected, they’re mission reports, describing his goal and what he did to achieve it. Infuriatingly objective in a way she thought was impossible for Axel.

_This is useless._

Or, if it was useful, it would take far too long for her to find out. She bites her cheek and puts it back on the shelf. She stares at the countless folders labeled with his number for a moment, before something in the edge of her vision catches her attention. Shoved in where the VIII binders end and the IX ones begin, is a notebook with a leather cover. The shape is familiar to her, and while she doesn’t quite understand why, she grabs it.

Flipping through it reveals some colloquial writing, and after a quick glance she decides it’s worth keeping, She then dashes to the VII binders, on the other side of the shelf and one row above the ones she was just looking at. It’s notable how much smaller Saïx’s section is. Maybe he rarely went on missions himself. Regardless of the reason, the scarcity makes her job easier.

She finds no notebook or anything else that looks much different than a binder. A silent huff leaves her, and she stares at them trying to think of what to do. One of them is colored differently than the others, being a darker maroon instead of a navy color. It’s also far thinner than the rest. She narrows her eyes at it.

Then, she hears footsteps approaching.

Her head snaps to the door, and she sees that the hallway lights are turned on now. And there’s someone coming. They’re walking slowly, but she can hear them getting closer, and closer. She swallows in fear, and decides to snatch the peculiar folder from the VII section. Conveniently, it’s the smallest one, so the space left empty will be less visible. She then opens a portal behind her, jumps through it and closes it in a hurry.

In the corridors, through nervous pants, she can look at her hard earned prizes. A proud smile comes to her face.

 

She comes out of the darkness into her room. She almost throws herself at her bed, crosses her legs, and looks at her stolen goods. The notebook from the Axel section is thinner than the binder, so she decides to start with that. Flipping through it, she sees a lot is written on it, some in handwriting that is hard to decipher. She frowns. When she catches her name on one of the pages, she stops, and reads it.

_‘Talking to Roxas and Xion always brings back memories of my human life, back when I was a kid. It's a weird sensation.’_

She stops herself from reading further.

_I stole his diary?!_

A wave of guilt crashes on her. It makes sense why she recognized the design now, it’s very similar to her own diary, the one that’s sitting on the desk just a few steps away from her. She had no idea he even had one… and now she just read it. She feels horrible. She rushes to snap it shut, but sees a familiar name on the rest of the entry, and she reads it before she can even realize what she’s doing.

_‘I ought to be able to share all this with Saïx, but I just don't feel like it anymore. It's strange, but I'm content with just missing what's gone. I'm not the one who changed. You did.’_

Her hand stops midway through closing it. She stares at the sentence in front of her despite herself.

“Missing what’s gone,” she repeats. She lets go of the pages and the diary closes.

It’s clear then, that whatever went down between them had already happened by the time that entry was written. It’s hard to tell from just one entry, but it sounds like whatever happened wasn’t enough to get Axel to hate Saïx completely. The tone in the entry is more melancholic than it is angry. It’s sad to read, really.

She knows she can probably get more details by reading the rest, however…

_It’s private._

She sure wouldn’t want anyone reading her diary. So she sighs, heavily, and throws it to the side in defeat, before turning her attention to the other thing she stole. She gets the folder, which is filled with papers, and opens it in a random page. To her surprise, she sees her name right away.

_‘Xion’s attempts at socialization seem to have resulted in it playing friendship with Roxas. It’s verbalizing more, but only with him.’_

That’s all that’s written in the entire report, but it’s enough to make her stomach turn. Observing the rest of the paper, she sees that it is indeed authored by Saïx, he signed his name at the bottom. After a shaky breath, she flips a few pages ahead.

_‘The puppet has grown an attachment to Axel as well as Roxas. It sticks to both of them like glue.’_

She swallows and continues to read the rest. They all have references to her, whether as ‘Xion’, ‘the replica’, or just ‘the puppet’. She closes it for a moment, and sees it: there’s a ‘No. i’ in the cover. In her hurry, she accidentally hit the jackpot and managed to get the binder that seems to compile all of Saïx’s reports on her progress.

_Xemnas put him in charge of watching me?_

She narrows her eyes. If his hatred for her really was as strong as Xigbar and the few things she just read imply… it’s painfully ironic that he had to write down her progression as an individual. She blinks a few times, gathering strength, and opens it again.

_‘It collapsed.’_

That’s all that’s written in one page.

_‘Ten days have passed and Xion shows no signs of waking up. It’s time to consider the possibility that the project is not viable.’_

Air catches on her throat at that one. What did he mean, _viable?_ What was he implying should be done with her? Xion doesn’t want to think about it. On the back of her head, a memory is screaming to be remembered, but for once she’s not so sure she wants it back. Her luck is starting to look more like a curse. The more she looks at the thing in front of her, the less she wants to find out.

_‘It woke up today and asked to join in on Axel and Roxas’ mission, only to return dysfunctional again. Its continuous displays of make-believe friendship are costing us time and effort. Axel had to drag its body back.’_

She stares at the page, rereading over and over again. If she didn’t know this was about her, she would think it’s about a machine. A thing. ‘Dysfunctional’? Xion remembers that day, she passed out and Axel carried her back to her room with Roxas. She remembers waking up so happy. She overhead their conversation while they thought she was still asleep, and while she doesn’t remember what was said, the happiness that filled her chest is was strong enough that she can still feel it while thinking about that moment.

While that was happening, _this_ was what was going through Saïx’s mind? Calling her dysfunctional? She _fainted._ Would he say this about anyone else?

Part of her knows the answer, and part of her refuses to acknowledge the question at all. Her chest pounds with hurt. She knew that Saïx wasn’t nice, but actually reading it is like a slap to the face. She understands now, why it looks like he doesn’t want her to remember. He doesn’t want her to remember _this._ But is that a good, or a bad thing? Is he hoping to never speak of this again? Is he counting on her never finding out about his past cruelty? Is an apology even worth that much when he doesn’t want her to know what he’s apologizing _for?_

She flips many pages ahead, like she’s afraid to actually read the words in front of her, and unwillingly stops at a random one near the end, surprised, _startled_ by a word used in it. Her eyes rush to read it before her conscious mind can stop them.

_‘The project was a mistake. It escaped. Axel let it escape. I do not see the point in getting it back. It is clear that it wants destruction, so let it have it. We still have Roxas keeping Sora in a coma.’_

And just like that, the memory breaks through her consciousness, uninvited and violent.

In the stairs of the Castle That Never Was, she ran after Saïx, begging for another chance, begging for him to reconsider his position, and he turned to her, malice glowing from his eyes, and said…

_“You were a mistake we never should have made.”_

She recoils from the memory, and more come crashing down. Of him calling her a puppet, a failure, a broken project. Never once giving her the decency of sympathy, of understanding that he was putting her in missions that set her up to fail (of course she couldn’t beat Riku! None of the people there could!), instead he just kicked her down whenever he could, like she was a machine that failed to do everything it was created for, that insulted his very existence.

She snaps the folder shut and pushes it away. She doesn’t want to look at it. She doesn’t want these memories pouring inside her head, she doesn’t want to think about any of it anymore. She takes a deep breath, only to realize she’s shaking. Her head pounds with pain, and she doesn’t know how much of it is coming from physical strain and how much of it is coming from the year of cruelty she’s reliving in one minute.

“Xion?” A voice calls from outside.

Her head snaps up. She hears two knocks.

_Saïx?_

“What?” She forces out.

_I don’t want to look at him._

“I just wanted to make sure you’re here,” he says, his voice so gentle it’s foreign now, “I didn’t find you anywhere else, so I...”

_Was he worried?_

The words she just read echo in her mind, while she swallows anything she wants to say. Her throat hurts, too. Hurts with betrayal.

“I wanted to check in. I did rest, by the way,” he says, painfully oblivious, and she feels anger swelling up in her chest. She clenches her jaw, and offers him nothing. The silence that follows is painfully awkward. It hurts her too, it makes her feel guilty, but she can’t bring herself to say anything right now.

“I’ll be going. Good night, Xion,” he says.

She bites down on the inside of her lip. The quiet eats up at her, and even though she’s not sure he’s still there, she pushes an affirmative hum out of her lungs. Right after, she hears footsteps start and fade away as he leaves.

Then she curls up into herself, shaking her head in denial, trying to convince herself that it’s a nightmare, but the memories are all so real she can recall them down to the smallest of details. Something she can’t do with her memories of Roxas and Axel, in a twisted irony. Her knees are on her chest, and her forehead pressed against them. On the corner of her vision, she sees them: the diary and the folder. She shuts her eyes for a moment, before snapping her head to them.

She glares at the folder like it is the source of all of the insults he threw at her, and kicks it off her bed, boot hitting the plastic with a loud snap. It flies to the other side of the room, hits the floor with a thud and hits the wall with another one. In the impact with the floor, she hears something click, and some of the papers escape from it, scattering over her floor. One falls near her, taunting her, and she can see the words in it.

_‘It’s deviated from its original purpose, and turning into a detriment to those around it. Axel has been caught up in an illusion of friendship, and it’s leading Roxas astray as well._

_It is my personal recommendation that the project is halted before it does irreparable damage.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's time that you learn that your actions have consequences


	7. VII. Berserk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moon shines down.

Saïx is in the meeting area, staring at the outside as always. Xion isn’t there. All of the usual people have already arrived, but Xion, despite always being one of the first people to wake up, is nowhere to be found. His mind has been racing with questions regarding the reason for her absence, but he can’t leave to check on her without Xigbar noticing. He thought nothing of it yesterday, but his last conversation with her was odd. She sounded off, somehow, and he had no idea why. Now, he wishes he had pressed her on the issue.

He drums nervous knuckles on the glass in front of him, and is too busy with his thoughts to notice the menace crawling up behind him. That is, Xigbar.

“Saïx! Where’s the little mannequin?” He asks, putting a hand on his shoulder that is far too firm to be friendly. Saïx turns to him with a scowl, one that pleases him. He narrows his eyes.

“Do  _ you  _ know?” He asks, throwing away any pretense of neutrality.

_ It’s not like Xigbar would believe it anyway. _

“As if. She’s paired up with you, y’know, so things might turn sour if she doesn’t show up soon.”

His jaw tenses for a moment. He glares at Xigbar, who stares right back.

“Did you hear about Xemnas’ fit?” Xigbar asks.

“His  _ what?” _

Xigbar chortles, removes the hand from Saïx’s shoulder and crosses his arms.

“Apparently something vanished from the archive and he’s all up in arms about it.”

_ Xion. _

He widens his eyes, and keeps his mouth shut while Xigbar reads his thoughts with ease. His lungs struggle to function, he balls his hands into fists without noticing, all while Xigbar just grins at him.

“Don’t tell anyone, but I think we both know who’s to blame,” Xigbar says, opening his arms in a taunting gesture.

He barely gets done saying it before Saïx turns away from the window and all but pushes Xigbar out of his way. Xigbar stumbles back with a laugh and enough drama that it gets the attention of just about everyone in the room. Saïx feels the eyes on him, all confused, some slightly entertained, as he takes long steps towards the hallway with their rooms. But he has to brake when he hears the signature tiny footsteps.

“Xion,” the name escapes him louder than he intended, all of the air he was unable to get out of him before escaping all at once. She says nothing, and looks up at him with an air of… hostility.

He opens his mouth to say something again, almost panting at the relief of seeing her safe, but then remembers all of the eyes around them. All of them, looking at the duo. It’s suffocating. Xion herself looks at the wall on her left, instead of the crowded room on her right. He grits his teeth, swallowing whatever words are in his mind, and just looks at her. Her frown is one he hasn’t ever seen on her face before. The silence is excruciating.

Then Xigbar giggles, and it gets worse. He cheerfully walks by every confused individual in the room, hands on his hips, until he gets next to Saïx and leans down to Xion’s height.

“Mornin’, Poppet. Why so late?”

Her frown doesn’t get any better when she looks at him.

“Bad night,” she says.

“Really! Why so?”

Her eyes narrow. Saïx stands there, too baffled by the entire situation to say anything. Silence has never failed him before.

“I think you can figure it out yourself,” she says.

Xigbar claps his hands with pride, a laugh escaping him before he can reply.

“Oh, Poppet! You never fail.”

She glares up at him so viciously Saïx can feel it himself. Too lost due to her sudden demeanor change, and too afraid to say anything in front of everyone else, he keeps quiet. Then a hard pat on the back hits him, one that feels more like a slap.

“Now that you’re here, I can tell you!” Xigbar, the culprit, says, “You two are off to the Kingdom of Corona today to check on the princess’ mother. She’s by the tower, Saïx knows the way."

“Fine,” Xion says.

Saïx only nods.

Xigbar abandons both of them to their own devices and worms his way back to his spot on the couch. He falls on it with a thud, and the rest of the room takes turns staring at him and at the duo in the corner. Xion’s looking down at the floor, hands curled up into frustrated fists, and shows no signs of saying anything. Saïx is just watching her, as the realization that something is very  _ very  _ wrong sinks into him.

_ What did you find? _

For the first time ever, Xemnas’ arrival relieves some of the tension in the room. Xion doesn’t react, keeping her head down, but Saïx looks up. He sees Xemnas give Xion a long stare before turning to the rest of the room and speaking up.

“Friends, you may begin your tasks,” he says.

Saïx opens a portal, and Xion doesn’t look at him before going in.

 

Their stroll through the darkness is quiet. She’s following him several steps behind, and he’s hesitant to look back at her. He just listens to her footsteps to make sure she’s still with him, and keeps walking. Sometimes he thinks he feels her stare on his back, but looking at her to check is the last thing he wants to do. Still, he can’t let the silence go on. Not when he has things to say.

“You can’t do that kind of thing,” he says, looking ahead.

“What?” Her voice is so blunt he barely recognizes it.

“Stealing the documents. They’ll destroy you for it,” he says.

“Wouldn’t you like that.”

A shiver runs down his spine and he turns to her. The knife made of guilt that torments him every interaction with her just gets slammed further into his chest. He tries to open his mouth to say something, but the cold stare she’s giving him makes it nearly impossible to do anything. He finds it difficult to breathe, finds it hard to even move. He swallows, and does his best do speak despite that.

“No, I wouldn’t,” he says. His voice comes out lower, mimicking genuine hurt.

Her arms are around herself in caution, and he can’t quite read her face. He can tell it shows a lot of pain, though. It wrecks his chest.

“What did you find?” He asks.

She winces, and looks away, her arms curling more around herself. He doesn’t want to, he can’t, force her into speaking, but the reaction she gives him is a big clue. But he hopes he’s wrong, he hopes from the bottom of his hollow chest, hopes so much that it hurts. Xion shakes her head, and a big sigh escapes her.

“Let’s keep walking,” she says.

He doesn’t have the will to say no.

 

When they arrive in Corona, there’s no sunlight to greet them. The sky is dotted with stars, and a full moon hangs above them providing a cold light instead. In any other circumstance, he’d find the view calming, he’d take a moment to appreciate it, but now he can’t help but notice Xion barely even looks up from the floor. She doesn’t gaze at the sky, she doesn’t stare in awe at the soft grass painted with flowers around them, she just holds her arms around herself and keeps quiet.

She keeps quiet, and away from Saïx. It presses on his chest, it gnaws at his soul. He takes a deep breath, and takes a step towards her, only to freeze when she takes one back in return. He frowns, and she looks up at him, and what he sees in her face isn’t cheerful curiosity, it isn’t someone deep in thought, it isn’t even the worried expression that’s become so frequent the past few days.

No, what he sees is fear.

It hits him like a punch to the gut. He takes a small step back and she watches him, almost hiding behind a tree. She watches him, small, curling into herself, with eyes that have in them a mix of terror and hostility. Like she is both a cornered prey animal and a predator, staring him down. He tries to say something, anything, but he can’t. Air leaves his lungs, but it doesn’t form words on its way out.

Seconds pass, with her looking at him like he’s a monster she’s never seen before, staring him down like he wronged her in the most fundamental way a being can, and he cracks under the pressure. He lowers his head, and turns away from her.

“Let’s go,” he says, as gentle as he can be.

She says nothing, but when he walks, he can hear her follow him.

They walk in the night, Saïx guided by his previous knowledge of the surroundings, and Xion keeping her distance from him. The crickets sing in an infuriating high frequency, filling in the space left by the lack of conversation. He sees the entrance to the cave that leads to the tower, and walks towards it, brushing aside the vines in front of it. Before he can enter, he hears the telltale sound of heartless materializing in the field behind him. He can barely turn around to look at them before he sees Xion unsheathing her blade with no hint of hesitation.

The heartless group, composed of a few Shadows and some unfamiliar round monsters that have flower petals in their heads, circle Xion when she leaps towards them. Saïx widens his eyes and takes one step forward, before he notices Xion darting around her foes with admirable speed.

It almost looks like fantasy, she moves so fast he can barely keep track. And every time she manages to land a hit on one of her enemies, it’s vicious in a way he’s never seen from her before. She jabs her sword forward with strength, with irritation bordering on malice, and disposes of almost all of them this way. But one manages to dodge, and jumps at her when she misses. She stumbles back, falls, hitting the ground with her back in a loud grunt and thud.

“Xion!” He calls out, readying himself to summon his weapon, but…

Xion rips the heartless off of her with her bare hands, rolls over, recovers her weapon and wastes no time piercing the fallen enemy’s body. She shoves the tip of her blade in it with enough strength that it dissipates in an instant, and her sword digs into the soft ground where it was. Saïx freezes, watching her grip its handle in frustration, watching her shoulders rise and fall. Her heavy pants sound angry more than they sound tired.

“Xion?” He calls out, apprehensive in a way he thought he was incapable of.

She pulls her sword off of the ground and sheathes it with spite. She pats the dirt off of her with anger, and looks down, not giving him a glance. She takes one last deep breath that escapes her as an exhausted sigh, and only then turns her face to him. He looks down by instinct.

He’s quiet when he enters the passage, and the only indication Xion gives him that she’s following is the heavy steps that follow.

Inside the long cave, there’s no ambient sound. The crickets outside suddenly sound like a blessing compared to the silence broken up only by their footsteps on the dry stone floor. He could cut the tension in the air with a knife, and it’s weighing down on him. In a lapse of judgement he looks behind him, only to see Xion analyzing his every movement with caution. He looks ahead again.

It’s clear she found something relating to him in the archives. Trying to figure out what, though, is agonizing in a way he can’t describe. Because he’s done  _ so much. _ She could have found reports from other members on his behavior, she could have found the documents written about her like she’s some sort of thing, she could have found  _ his  _ reports on her progress. The place where his misguided hatred seeped into the most, if his diary was to be ignored.

He wanted her to die. He wanted her to be destroyed and lose everything she holds dear. He wanted to rip the people Axel cared about so much away from him, in some misguided attempt at showing him just what he had been dealing with for the past few years. In the end, he just wanted revenge. He just wanted to destroy the  _ “thing”  _ Axel loved enough to let go, the thing he loved more than Saïx. And all of his intentions had dripped into his reports, despite him trying to frame them in an objective way.

He remembers that he eventually reached a point where he was almost begging Xemnas in his words. But Xemnas had kept insisting she should be brought back. That she was imperative to their plan. Because she was the one that was functioning, because Roxas was getting weaker by the minute. He knew it all made some twisted amount of sense, objectively, but he couldn’t help but want her gone.

_ ‘It is clear that it wants destruction, so let it have it.’ _

He remembers writing that, vividly. He remembers even though he wishes he didn’t. And the thought of the girl, the  _ child  _ behind him reading those words said about her, it makes his chest pound with guilt, an immeasurable weight growing and growing and  _ growing  _ until he can barely breathe. He has no heart to feel any of it, and yet the hurt fogging his lungs feels viscerally real.

They reach the end of the path, and their target is easy to spot. Mother Gothel is preparing a basket for her trip on the base of the tower. Saïx rushes behind a nearby tree to mask his presence, and Xion reluctantly follows. She settles near him, but he can tell it is only due to the cramped space.

A minute of silence goes by as they observe her checking everything in the basket, and then turning to the other belongings she scattered on the floor for organization. Then, miraculously, Xion speaks up.

“What’s her deal?” She asks. Her voice is low.

Despite the odd tone, he’s glad she said anything at all.

“She’s the... caretaker of a lost princess,” he says.

“Caretaker?”

“She tells her she is her mother, but… it’s a ruse.”

Xion turns to him, and he’s too burned by the other times he dared to look back to do it one more time.

“What?” She asks.

“She keeps the princess locked up in the tower. The girl has special abilities,” he says.

Xion slumps back and sits down on the grass.

“Does the girl not try to escape?”

“Maybe in the past she has tried, but her mother tells her the world outside is dangerous.”

“So she’s keeping all the bad things hidden?”

He can feel Xion’s stare on her. It’s ice cold.

“Yes,” he answers.

“She says it’s for the princess’ sake?”

“Yes.”

He swallows.

“Is it?”

“No.”

Xion’s sharp gaze cuts into him deep enough he can’t even focus on the woman in the distance.

“So what is it, really?” She asks.

He realizes he is holding his breath.

“A lie.”

“To make the mother more comfortable.”

Her wording is off. He has the sinking feeling they’re talking about different things. Two very different things, and he’s starting to realize what Xion is referring to.

“Yes,” he says, admits. 

Mother Gothel gathers her things, and starts walking towards the exit. The duo ducks out of view until she passes them, and disappears in the cave passage. A few seconds go by as they make sure she won’t come back. Then, Saïx gets up himself, and it’s his turn to take a few steps away from Xion.

There’s pressure around his lungs. He can’t breathe, he can barely walk. But it’s not one of his episodes of lightheadedness, he can see just fine. He can feel his body just fine. No, it’s all due to the excruciating aura emanating from Xion. He dares to look at her, and she’s just observing him. She wants something from him, but he doesn’t think he has it in him to give it to her.

Seeing his blatant refusal, Xion walks towards the cavern entrance, then stops. It takes him a moment to notice she’s waiting for him. He breathes, and walks towards her, then past her, into the passage. She follows him.

The echo of their footsteps ring inside his head. Each step forward, they seem to get louder, like his brain hates the silence and is amplifying the sound in his skull to avoid it. He can still feel Xion’s stare on him. All of it twists the knife in him.

Her footsteps stop behind him just before he exits the cave. It takes him a moment to notice, because he hopes he imagined it. But then he stops himself, and the silence that follows confirms his fear. That fear then turns to terror when she keeps quiet. He wants to turn to her, but can’t. His body won’t listen to him, because his mind is begging for him not to.

Then she breaks the silence and it shatters like glass.

“Why did you lie to me?” She asks.

He looks down at the floor. If before it felt like a knife was twisting in his chest, now it’s like a spear, going through his entire body. He tries to speak up.

“I don’t know what–”

“You do,” she interrupts.

He closes his eyes, breathes in, and out, and turns to her. She’s frowning at him, hands curled up into fists. It’s not just anger that he sees, there’s also hurt. He can see her breathing, heavy and unstable. It breaks him. He can’t say anything.

“You hate me,” she says.

He looks down.

“No, I don’t.”

“Look at me,” she takes a step forward, and it echoes through the entire passage. He complies, after a moment of hesitation, “You want me dead.”

He swallows hard, moving back without even noticing.

“No, of course not.’

“But you did.”

He can’t bring himself to confirm it. His jaw is snapped shut.

Her frown and her breathing get worse at his silence. She grits her teeth, looks at the floor, uncurls her hands and brings them in front of her so she can stare at her palms. Her shoulders rise and fall with no discernable pattern, and it twists the pain in his chest. It twists enough that he’s pushed towards her.

“Xion, I,” he starts. But she recoils from his words for a moment, grasps her head in pain, pulls at her hair with horrifying force, then for a split second she looks up at him in rage and pushes him back. She’s strong enough that he stumbles out of the cave.

“What were you planning on doing?” She follows him, going past the vines in the entrance. “Just hope I never remember?”

“I don’t…”

He doesn’t know, really.

She keeps moving towards him, and he keeps stepping back.

“How did it feel when you realized I didn’t remember?” She says, almost yells, “That I forgot all about you calling me broken?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for  _ what?!” _ She screams, and steps into the moonlight. She recoils from it, shuts her eyes and holds her head in pain, but keeps going, “What’s an apology worth if I’m not allowed to know what caused it?!”

He starts to hurry to her when she grunts in pain, but her volume makes him freeze.

“Did you want to forget? Did you want me to forget? Just so you wouldn’t have to acknowledge it?” She screams far louder than it should be possible, then shakes her head, removing her hands from it.

She looks up again, and her eyes are  _ glowing. _

Saïx knows what it is, they’re glowing with rage, confusion, and betrayal. Glowing with hurt. He takes a step back, and Xion drops her right hand to her side, and as if on cue, a clone of his own weapon materializes in her hands. She looks so  _ broken,  _ not in the way his past self would say, but in a way that shows how her heart has been shattered into pieces. She glares at him, eyes shining like the moon above them, in a way he never thought he’d get to see himself.

“You told me I was  _ a mistake! _ ” She leaps forwards, her Lunatic is swung towards him. He’s quick to summon his own claymore to block the strike, but the blow is enough to force him to take a few steps back.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he says, perhaps too low for her to hear.

“You wanted me to be destroyed,” she says, swings her weapon to the side in an attempt to knock his away, and fails, “You wanted me to die, because I dared to make friends!”

“Xion, I–”

She pushes him back, and slams the Lunatic’s head on the ground, releasing a wave of energy he barely escapes from. After barely a second, she darts towards him again, repeating her attack, releasing more ripples of energy he runs back to avoid.

“All because of what? What did I ever  _ do to you?!” _

The words, they don’t stab at his chest. They remove the spear inside his thorax instead, and all that’s left is a hole, a hole that bleeds with hurt, bleeds with regret, and bleeds with fear of what he’s done. It’s real pain, not some memory, not some echo of it or imitation, its pain Isa never felt in his lifetime and it’s crawling through Saïx’s veins and ripping through his skin like a monster, one of his own creation.

“Axel didn’t leave you because of me!” She screams, growls, and swipes her weapon up to release a blade of energy in his direction.

He has no time to react, and it hits him in full, launching him away on impact. He lands on his back, and a groan of pain escapes him, but he forces himself up. He looks at her, and the image hurts him more than her attacks ever could. Overwhelmed by her own power, she stabs the Lunatic on the ground to hold herself up, hands curled around its handle. She yells again, but doesn’t look at him.

“He left you because you were cruel! He left you, even though he missed you, because you’re the kind of person to call others dysfunctional! I didn’t do anything! I didn’t do  _ anything!” _

“Xion...” he whispers. He wants to go to her, help her snap out of the trance he knows so well, but just as he begins to do so, she pulls the claymore up again and brings it behind her back, just like he does. Exactly like he does. It’s horrible to look at.

She darts towards him again, and he blocks the strike.

“He left you because he’s a good person!”

Her screams are boosted by the energy the Berserk state supplies her, and they ring inside him, they reach inside his very soul and rip it apart. And he says nothing back, because he knows she’s correct, and even if she weren’t, who is he to tell her she’s wrong? Who is he to do anything but take whatever she’s throwing at him?

“Because he loved us, and he loved you too!” She swipes up, bringing his weapon with hers, and after one brief step back she brings it back with her before going for a strike on his unprotected abdomen. One that hits in full force.

He stumbles back, his body recoiling into itself, but refuses to fall again. She tries to bring her claymore down once more, but he blocks it.

“But that just wasn’t enough for you, was it?!”

She pushes forward with her weapon, and his arms are crumbling trying to resist it.

“And you still don’t want to let me remember,” she says, lower, voice dangerously close to cracking in a way that saps enough strength out of him for her to be able to make him stumble back, “You still don’t want me to remember my good memories with him, because yours are tainted with me and Roxas.”

“I tainted them,” he says, as she pushes forward more and his arm shakes and pounds with pain, “I tainted them, not you.”

She bites down on her lips, and her glowing eyes water, the tears threatening to fall reflecting the light coming from her irises. The frown on her face is painful, but it doesn’t show through in the strength she’s putting in her Lunatic.

“You know, then,” she says. She then clenches her jaw, and falls back herself, jabbing the claymore into the ground once more, letting the wave of energy released travel through the ground. Saïx jumps back to avoid it, and watches her from a distance.

“I do,” he says.

“You could have realized sooner,” she says, pressing her forehead against her weapon, “before setting me up to kill my friend or die instead, before… calling me a failed project, saying that I should be allowed to disappear.”

“I wish I did.”

She says nothing in return, and stands there, hands glued to her weapon for support, panting heavily, legs shaking like branches on the verge of snapping. Her bangs fall in front of her face, he can’t see her expression, which somehow makes the crater in his chest worse. He’s frozen like a deer in headlights, watching her, afraid she’ll attack again, but wanting more than anything to rush to her and help.

Seconds that last an eternity pass, and her fingers slowly uncurl around the handle as her hands lose strength. A moment passes where she wavers forward, before the claymore dematerializes completely and nothing’s in front of her to stop her from falling. Her knees give out under her and she comes crashing down.

“Xion!” He calls out, drops his weapon and dashes towards her, but he can’t get to her before she slams into the ground. Thankfully, she lands in the soft grass, but shows no signs of consciousness when Saïx kneels next to her. He reaches out, then retracts his hand, unsure of what to do.

He takes a shaky breath before placing his trembling, unstable hand on the side of her head, and gently turns it so her face isn’t on the ground. He brushes some messy, dirt covered hair away from her face, and sees her eyes are closed. Something in his throat scrapes against him every time he tries to breathe, and he swallows it the best he can, watching her back rise and fall.

_ She’s breathing. _

The simple fact is enough to make him remember to let some air into his lungs himself. After calming himself enough that he’s able to think, he places a hand on her shoulder, and squeezes it.

“Xion,” he calls out in a whisper. She doesn’t react.

Another deep breath later, he pushes her as slowly as he can, turning her over so she’s on her side instead of on her stomach. He looks over her body for visible injuries, hoping that he can help somehow, but sees none of the sort. Whatever caused her to collapse, it wasn’t a consequence of physical wounds.

If he had to guess, it was overexertion. And it’s a guess coming from personal experience.

He sighs, and sits on the floor, crossing his legs. He looks to the side, deep in thought.

He can carry her back, but the risk of anyone seeing them before he manages to bring her to her room is too high. If she’s brought back like this, unconscious, Xemnas and the other higher ups will probably look into what caused it. And they’ll ask him what happened. He can’t tell the truth, because knowing she attacking a fellow member will not go down well with them.

_ They’d suspect too much. _

He looks down at her. Her hair fell back on her face when he turned her around. He brushes it aside once more, and sees it again, her sleeping face. At the very least, she looks calmer, though he knows it’s only because she had no energy left to be angry seconds before passing out. His chest tightens at the sight, like his heart was never gone.

Saïx then waits for her to wake up.


	8. VIII. Stargazing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad memories are brought up, and new ones are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm a bit tired so i'll reply to previous comments later <3!  
> that said, enjoy the chapter!

_ “It’s pretty.” _

_ He looked away from the beautiful sunset in front of them when she spoke. She met his eyes with a smile, and it took him a moment to return it. He looked at her entire face multiple times, like he couldn’t believe what was in front of him. _

_ “I can see why you like it so much,” he said. _

_ “I guess someone like you would rather watch the moon instead, though.” _

_ Xion watched intently for his reaction. His eyes widened in surprise, and he let out a confused noise instead of forming any coherent response. She couldn’t help but laugh at it. And as she did, she saw a lost smile form on his face, before he glanced at the ground in embarrassment. _

_ “The sun has its perks. The moon is special, though.” _

_ “Is it?” _

_ “Maybe you’ll see it one day.” _

_ He looked back up, but not at the sun, at the dark purple filling the sky above them. _

_ “I hope so,” she said. _

_ His eyes looked sad for a moment. _

_ “Maybe it’s best you don’t.” _

_ “What do you mean?” _

_ “It’s special to me in a way I wouldn’t wish upon anyone.” _

_ Her arms tightened around his. _

_ “If it’s special to you, I want to understand it too!” _

_ A chuckle left him. _

_ “That’s just like you.” _

_ “Is that bad?” _

_ “No, of course not. That’s a good thing.” _

_ The words comforted her to an extent she couldn’t quite understand back then. _

 

Her entire body feels like it weights thrice the usual amount. Moving her legs is out of the question, moving her arms is barely achievable, and opening her eyes is painfully hard. After a few breaths spent gathering the strength necessary, with her eyelids still shut, she turns and pushes her hands against the ground in an attempt of getting up.

“Don’t–”

She can barely recognize the voice before her arms give up below her. She crashes back on the soft grass, and her entire body hurts when she does. After turning her head enough that the plants won’t get inside her eyes, she opens them. The light from the moon above hurts in a way that doesn’t quite feel right, and right below it she sees Saïx sat down with a frown on his face, hands hovering near her unsure of what to do. Seeing it, she backs away the smallest amount and he retreats his hands in response, shifting backwards himself.

“Don’t try to get up yet,” he says.

Despite the anger still fresh in her chest, she takes his words to heart and decides to stare at the vegetation in front of her, instead of him. Her fallen hands brush up against the plants.

“How do you feel?” He asks, holding his hands together on his lap.

“Bad,” is all she can say, and it’s a good enough summary.

He gives her a weak nod, apparently getting the answer he was expecting, then stares at the grass himself. She hears the breeze touch it in white noise, and the crickets that got startled by the fight are slowly returning to their singing. It’s soothing enough that it makes her eyelids drop again. It clears her mind enough that she can think, and speak.

“I used the claymore,” she says.

“Yes.”

She wasn’t exactly looking for confirmation, as much as she was hoping for an explanation. But, looking at his quiet face, it seems he has none. Or he does, and is holding it away from her as always. She can’t really tell the difference at this point. A quiet huff leaves her, and she struggles to even move her chest for it.

“Does it suck like this every time you do it?”

Her whole body feels like it’s been ran over by an elephant then dropped from a cliff. Every muscle has decided that it is nap time.

“Berserking… used to suck, yes,” he says, guilty eyes meeting hers, “I’ve gotten better at it.”

A groan comes from her, and she’s not sure if it’s a noise of confirmation or a complaint. Regardless, she gets sick of almost eating grass anytime she speaks, so with all of the strength in her body, she uses pushes against the ground with one arm and flips herself over so she is on her back instead of on her side. The arm complains when she does, but at least it doesn’t crumble like before. Saïx watches her intently.

She looks at the stars and the moon above. The sky is clean of clouds, so the entire view is speckled with little lights of varying sizes and hues. It’s beautiful enough to get lost in, to let it fill her vision while she remembers everything she read. The memories scrape against her skull when they come, but she’s given up on fighting against them at this point.

“I remember...” she says, then sighs, and continues, “you called me a mistake.”

He’s quiet for a second, and while she doesn’t look at him she hears him shift against the grass.

“I did.”

“And a failure. And a puppet.”

“Yes.”

His replies are clear. She can’t pick up anything in his voice, and can’t picture his expression in her mind. But she doesn’t think she can look at him yet, because of everything he’s done, and also because of what she just did to him. She feels horrible, even if part of her appreciates the catharsis, and knows that she had every right to do it.

Her chest rise and falls, and her hands grip the grass under them. She bites her cheek for a moment before speaking, trying to get the words to form and leave her mouth. Saying it is acknowledging it, something she doesn’t want to do, but the truth hurts. She knows it better than anyone. And in the end it’s better to find out than to let it sit and grow into a monster. In a way, it already had turned into one.

“Why did you hate me so much?” She finally says, voice low and afraid unlike anything she’s said today.

“I...”

She feels his gaze, and finally turns her head to him. Saïx looks at her with sad eyes, not unlike the ones he gave her when he refused to speak of Axel. One of his hands is holding the other, subtly fidgeting with it in a way she’s not even sure he’s aware of. The sorrow emanating from him is enough to get her to feel some of it herself, despite her best efforts. She’s always been an emotional sponge, her heart can’t stand seeing others in pain, as self inflicted it may be.

 “I couldn’t understand how Axel could,” he pauses, swallows, and she sees his shoulders rise and fall before he speaks again, “love someone-  _ something, _ so much, that he’d…”

He stops again, like the words slam on his chest as hard as they stab on hers, and shuts his eyes for a moment.

“Choose it over me,” he concludes, and looks at her again.

She softens, and rolls on her side again, bringing her knees closer to herself. She lays her head on her arm and observes him. He’s determined not to run away from her eyes, for once, and she appreciates it. Still, she can tell how much he doesn’t want to meet her gaze; his eyes are begging to drop to the floor or anywhere else.

“Something,” she repeats. In a moment of mercy, she looks at the grass instead of him.

“Yes.”

“You never saw me as a person.”

Before she looks back at him, she can see him flinch on the corner of her vision. Turning her attention to him again, she sees his hands are now holding each other, grasping at one another for any sense of stability.

A moment passes before he says, “Back then? No.”

“Now?” 

His frown softens, and he presses his lips together for a moment before answering.

“Of course.”

Some weight she was unaware of leaves her, and she has to breathe, something she apparently forgot to do until now. Her eyes hurt, she thinks they’re watering but she’s not sure. Her throat hurts, too. She swallows the pain, wills the tears away, and looks at the plants around them again.

“Roxas also took him away from you, but I don’t remember you wishing he had never been born,” she says. He hesitates, and she continues, “I don’t remember you calling him a mistake.”

The sigh that leaves him confirms that it isn’t due to her memory problems. She grits her teeth at it. She’d never wish the cruelty upon her best friend, but being singled out and repeatedly beaten to the ground with insults that had no reason to be thrown at her, it was horrible in a way she still can’t quite grasp, despite having relived all of it just the night before.

“Roxas was an individual,” he says, and she looks at him, “whose face I could see, who wasn’t created in a lab.”

Her eyebrows furrow, and he pauses, closing his eyes, before speaking again.

“I still hated him for what he’d done, but,” he opens them again, “it made some logical sense to me.”

She moves her fingers against the grass. Her gaze falls again.

“I was an individual,” she says.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

She looks up at him. He looks broken, not like a machine, but in the sense that he looks like his soul was ripped out of him and shred to pieces. Like he shredded it himself, with his bare hands, and was now having to deal with what he’d done. He continues talking once he sees he has her attention.

“I’m sorry, for everything. I know that there’s no way to fix what I did, to take back what I said.”

She wishes there was. A magic button to erase the hurt in her chest and the memories plaguing her brain would be wonderful right now. But then again, she’s come to realize just how important memories are, whether they are bad or good.

“You didn’t take Axel away from me, he left me behind because of what I had become,” he says, and the name struggles to leave him, “because I was being horrible to him, and to you.”

A quiet, long sigh escapes her.

“You were just a child. You are just a child. I’m sorry.”

She observes him, how his hands stopped fidgeting with each other and are now just anxiously resting on his legs, how he bites the inside of his mouth while he waits for her to speak, and how his yellow eyes shine and look at her, her face, observing her too. After a moment of thought, she tries pushing herself up again. He reaches his hands around her, ready to catch her if she falls, but it’s unnecessary; she manages to sit up. Xion then crosses her legs, and faces him. He slowly puts his arms back down while she does.

“Can you really see my face?” She asks.

He looks at her nose, eyes, all of it, when she asks. The act answers her question all by itself, but he still speaks up.

“Yes.”

“What do you see?”

He furrows his eyebrows for a moment, like he doesn’t understand the question, but seeing her mildly desperate frown is good enough reason for him to answer.

“...Round face, round nose, wide blue eyes-- not the same shade as roxas’, a bit warmer.” He says, and her heart tightens, “Short black hair. Spiky. A bit of a mess, right now.”

She presses her lips together and bites down as she feels the pain in her throat come back, a gigantic knot forming inside her after he answers. The little remark at the end is what does it; she can feel some grass stuck on her head, she can feel the dirt on her face, and him just mentioning it so casually breaks something in her. Her vision blurs, and he widens his eyes when tears escape her. Unlike last time, it’s not just a few. She lowers her head, and brings her hand to her face in a futile attempt of wiping them away.

“Xion?”

Her name, spoken so softly, only makes it worse.

“Why couldn’t you see this sooner?” She says, and it comes out unstable, “I was afraid of you, I was convinced it was wrong for me to exist, you looked at me like I had done something horrible to you even though I did my best to–”

“I know,” he says, voice low and hesitant. She can sense him closer now, for a brief moment when she opens her eyes she can see his arms on the corners of her vision, hovering around her too afraid to touch her, but too worried to do nothing. “I’m sorry.”

Despite her words, despite the fact that just minutes ago it would be the last thing she’d like to do, Xion lets herself lean on one of her arms around her, hopeful the touch will help her stop the tears running down her face. After a moment of surprise, he gently wraps it around her, his other hand resting on her shoulder, tense and awkward.

“Part of me used to,” the air gets stuck on her throat for a moment, and she has to pause to recompose herself before she can continue, “used to think you were worse than Xemnas, because at least he left me alone, while you–”

She snaps her mouth shut when she realizes what she’s saying, when she feels Saïx freeze at her words. She regrets it immediately, feels guilt twist in her chest, and buries her face on the arm that is holding her.

“I’m sorry, I–” she starts.

“No, no,” he rushes to interrupt her, and his grip around her tightens for a moment. She gives up on saying anything, and settles on grasping at him herself, settling a hand on his arm, “Don’t be.”

She can’t think of anything to say, so she keeps quiet. So does he, and while she tries her best to imitate the calm rise and fall of his chest, she fails completely. The noise of the crickets is only interrupted by her unstable breathing and the occasional sniffle, tormenting her ears every few seconds. Trying to hold her breath to make the hiccuping stop gives questionable results. Mercifully, he speaks up.

“I… don’t have anything to say, other than… I’m sorry, and I wish I hadn’t done or said those things,” his voice is low, and soft in a way she would think is impossible for him in her past life, “and I promise you won’t hear those lies come out of my mouth again.”

“Lies,” she repeats, turning her head enough that she can look at him. He looks down at her, too. His hair is close to falling on her face.

“You’re not, and never were, a mistake, or a puppet, or a thing. You’re… Xion.”

She blinks at him as the tears slow down, and then shifts closer to him, making their awkward hug just a little bit less so, moving her hand to his back much like she did the day they watched the sunset. She rests the side of her head on his shoulder, and looks down.

“I know that,” she says.

“I know you do.”

“But hearing you say it, it helps.”

She can feel his shoulder relax, and closes her eyes to focus on stopping the tears completely. He gives her the same awkward pats he gave her the last time, and it helps, as bad at it as he is. It’s comforting in a way that is only his, so inefficient that it can’t be anything but genuine. After a while passes, she feels herself stable enough to speak.

“You’ve seen me cry too many times,” she says, and opens her eyes to look at the ground.

“It’s fine…?”

“I don’t usually cry this much.”

“The circumstances here aren’t exactly ideal.”

A quiet, sad chuckle leaves her.

“I guess. But I’m not crying in front of you anymore.”

His hand shifts on her shoulder.

“If… it’s what makes you comfortable, okay.”

Another giggle leaves her, the tears have stopped completely at this point. His endless displays of awkwardness never fail to cheer her up.

“You’re my friend, right?” She asks, looking down at her free hand, and pressing her head against him. A second passes before he answers.

“If you’re okay with calling me one.”

“Then yes.”

He moves his head enough that his hair falls on her face, brushing up against her nose again. She’s about to recoil from it before she sneezes, but feels him rest his chin on the top of her head, then she doesn’t feel like moving anymore. She uses her hand to get the hair out of her face.

“Thank you,” he says.

The pressure on top of her is grounding, and the gesture is rare enough that part of her doubts it’s really happening.

“Then,” she pauses for a moment, afraid that speaking up will somehow break the moment, “please don’t lie anymore.”

“No more secrets,” he says.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

A smile reaches her face and she just keeps quiet, deciding to just enjoy the moment while it lasts. By how his hand keeps shifting on her shoulder, it seems he’s incapable of doing the same himself. It’s funny, but also a little bit sad, how he doesn’t know how to react to things like this. For his sake, she speaks up.

“Why does berserking suck so much?”

“...It channels the moon’s power and uses your anger as fuel, you can end up going past your limits if you’re not careful.”

She twists her head up and he looks down at her in response. She tilts her head a bit, and he almost does the same in confusion.

“Are you that angry all the time?”

He blinks.

“It, um, depends.”

A smile reaches her face at the nonanswer. One he turns away from.

“How long have you been doing it for?” She asks.

“I’ve used the Lunatic since I joined the organization, but berserking… some years after that.”

His low tone is enough to make her drop the smile, and she presses her cheek on him.

“What happened?”

He looks ahead of them, at a random tree, when he answers.

“A lot of things,” he starts, before dropping his gaze to the grass. “Something, something was the trigger, definitely, but a lot was building up before that.”

She tightens her grip around him. It pushes him to continue.

“The frustration of… trying to chase something you’re not even sure exists anymore, while having to leave behind the things you care about,” he concludes.

“Axel…?”

He nods, weakly.

“Everything just built up.”

She turns her head up to gaze at the moon.

“I think I get it,” she says.

“I’m sure you do, considering you just did the same yourself.”

A silent laugh leaves her, and she looks at him again. He’s looking at the moon just like she was.

“What were you chasing?” She asks.

“It’s a long story,” he says, not turning too her when he does, “I’ll tell you another time.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

The answer is enough to let her be content with the silence settling back in. She watches the sky above, too, seeing the stars form various shapes with her imagination. Looking down, she sees the tall trees and the bushes around them, and can even see some insects jumping around. It’s all soothing, in a way she couldn’t quite take in before.

It’s all better with him, too. It’s rare that they get to just exist like this, without being watched. She felt the same in her past life, with Roxas and Axel. It was why the clock tower was so special, it was theirs and theirs only. No Xigbar to push buttons, no Demyx to loudly proclaim something stupid in the background, and no Saïx to glare daggers at them whenever they started enjoying themselves too much.

Looking at him now, though, she smiles. She and Saïx had somehow made a quiet place of their own in the desolate wasteland. But it wasn’t the same as the clock tower, it wasn’t  _ their spot,  _ it was more like his presence was enough to put her at ease. Having someone she can trust makes everything more bearable, and despite all logic, Saïx had become that. It was why his lies had hurt so much, because she thought he had turned back into someone she couldn’t trust.

He notices her staring, and looks down at her, tilting his head just like she does.

In the end, she’s happy to be proven wrong. If he wanted to destroy her he just had the perfect excuse to, if he wanted to abandon her he could have just gone back without her. But he’s still here, trying so hard to make her feel better, and succeeding because he’s just so  _ bad  _ at it it’s endearing.

“So you do like watching the moon,” she says.

His eyes widen for a moment, before a gentle smile reaches him.

“I do. Always have, since I was a child.”

Again, she can’t quite picture a younger Saïx. But it’s cute to imagine it anyway. Almost soothing, to think of a time where he wasn’t so… emotionally repressed. He looks up back at it, the beautiful white drop in the dark blue sky.

“Lea, he…”

She perks up at the name when it leaves his mouth. His face is neutral, but something in his voice just makes her chest hurt.

“Is ‘Lea’... Axel’s original name?”

“Yes. I forgot you didn’t know.”

“He didn’t really like talking about the past.”

He’s quiet, for a moment.

“I see.”

She thinks she sees a frown reach him, but can’t quite tell. Her chest tightens at the sight. Still, he turns to her, doing his best not to let anything show on his face, and continues, even though it looks like the words struggle to leave him.

“Well, Lea loved watching the sun set. We used to do it all the time, eating ice cream, but I liked telling him that the moon was better.”

Hearing this, she can’t help but wonder if Axel’s habit started with Saïx. She always thought it was something he did on his own, before inviting Roxas, who then invited her. Never once she stopped to consider maybe he had someone else he liked watching the sun with before.

“So one day, he got sick of it, and said… that we should wait for the moon to rise, too.”

He looks at the grass while recounting the memory, and seemingly unbeknownst to him, a small smile creeps up on his face. It warms her heart.

“Aww.”

His smile widens at her, and he continues.

“So we did. I kept telling him we should go home because it was late, but… he insisted. And we watched it rise. The moon was full that day, it was beautiful. I think he didn’t know it would be, because he doesn’t usually… think about things before doing them, but the gesture was nice just the same.”

“How sweet.”

“It was,” he says, hesitates for a moment, “He is.”

He looks… sad, despite the fondness clear on his face. It’s almost suffocating for someone as sensitive as her. She wants to press him on the issue, but she’s too exhausted to, and he doesn’t look much better than her. She’ll leave the conversation for another day. And this time, she knows he won’t run from it.

Saïx retreats to his thoughts, and she glances at the path they took when they arrived.

“Should we… get going?” She asks.

A low ‘hmm’ leaves him while he thinks over the answer.

“I’m not sure if it’s a good idea, unless you can already walk without help.”

“Why?”

“The mission didn’t exactly involve fighting, or anything that’d put you in this state.”

“Ah…”

She hadn’t exactly thought about it, but it would be suspicious. 

“Isn’t it bad to be late too, though?” She asks.

“Better to be late than show up with you barely being able to move. I can make something up.”

She’s glad he’d do it for her, but… it’s a bit nerve wracking, knowing he’ll have to lie for her sake. She can never tell what Xemnas is thinking, but he observes them all with such a careful eye that it makes the concept of lying to him seem impossible, or at the very least stubborn. Not that she never went to him with hidden intentions but… it was always something she did with a lot of anxiety.

“What did you find, exactly?” He asks, breaking her train of thought.

The memory is unpleasant.

“Your reports on me.”

Saïx stays quiet for a moment.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“I didn’t… read all of it.”

“You shouldn’t. Or, you can if you want to, but… they’re all similar in content.”

She nods. Part of her does want to get the full context, but maybe she’ll space it out over a few days. Or maybe she’ll never touch it again. She doesn’t know how productive it would be, regardless. That aside, she realizes that Saïx knowing about her stunt at all is a problem.

“How did you know I stole things?”

“Xigbar… informed me,” he says, a hint of distaste in his voice.

“Do Xemnas and the others know?”

“According to him, they know things were stolen, but he never stated they knew who did it. He seems to know it was you,” he says, but then rushes to add, “But you never know, with Xigbar.”

It does little to soothe her worries. Maybe Xigbar told them she was likely scheming in the first place. Then again, maybe not… part of her doesn’t want to find out. She looks down at her hands while they fidget with each other, and Saïx’s hand pets her shoulder.

“Nothing will happen to you,” he says.

“And you?”

He pauses for a moment.

“You’re the one in charge of me, right?” She asks.

“I’ve been dealing with Xemnas for a long time.”

The non answer makes dread bubble up inside her.

“Saïx?”

“I’ll manage.”

“Manage  _ what?” _

He senses her worrying creeping through her words and his breathing slows down. He keeps quiet in the way she’s come to realize means he’s thinking over what to say, which means he’s trying to come up with an excuse. She curls up the hand that’s on his back into a fist and gives him the most harmless punch to his back. He flinches in surprise, and gives no sign of experiencing actual pain.

“What?” He asks, oblivious.

“Don’t make something up, just tell me what you mean.”

“I meant what I said. I’ve been lying to him for a long time.”

“Huh?”

“With Axel.”

_ Well, that’s new. _

“So when I say I’ll manage, I mean it,” he says.

“Okay then.”

She’s not sure she’s entirely convinced, but he seems confident enough. Still, she’d rather not make his job harder. Without a word, she tries to push herself up, gripping at him in case her legs fail her again. He’s quick to notice what she’s doing, and gets up himself, offering her his arm as support. She pulls herself up, for a moment slips, then catches his hand before she falls. Her grasp on him is strong enough that it might hurt, but she’s just preoccupied with making sure her legs are functioning.

She stays still, and smiles in victory.

“Everything okay?” He asks.

She nods. A second passes before she’s  _ really  _ sure that she won’t crash to the ground again, and she lets go of his hand. He hovers around her ready for the worst, but she doesn’t fall.

“I think I can walk.”

“Don’t push yourself.”

Her expression brightens, to counter his gloom. It’s enough to make him back away, and give her space to walk.

He’s hesitant when he opens a portal, but their trip back to the castle is uneventful. She can feel some anxiety emanating from him on the way back, but he does his best to return her smiles.

 

Stepping back into the castle, however, they’re greeted by many faces, none of them friendly. Worse still, one of them stumbles their way out of the corridors, and it’s not Xion.

“Saïx?” She calls out, and he takes a few steps forward before falling to his knees, head in his hands. She’s about to run to him, however…

“There you two are, about time!” Xigbar gets in her way, his usual irritating smile on his face, “What took you so long?”

She swallows and looks around her. Xigbar is in front of her, between her and Saïx, who’s on the floor holding his head and seemingly oblivious to the man right behind him. Xemnas is observing them not many steps away, and behind him is a man she’s never seen before, but resembles him in an uncanny manner. She looks back at Xigbar when he leans forward, prodding her for a reply.

“A heartless group appeared on the way there,” she says, looking at him and not at her friend, despite it being the last thing she wants to do.

“I see! Must’ve been some tough enemies.”

“Yes,” she confirms, without even thinking. She just wants them out of the room.

“Well, we are glad to see you’ve made it back safe,” Xemnas says.

He takes a step forward, and as if on cue, Saïx pushes himself back up, though clearly out of desperation, and not because he feels any better. He almost falls again before stabilizing himself enough that he can stay still. Xigbar turns around to look at him, hands on his hips, and after blinking a few times, Saïx takes a step towards Xemnas himself.

“Slow down, Bunnymoon!”

Saïx barely gives Xigbar a glance before speaking.

“I,” he pauses, shutting his eyes, “I apologize for the delay.”

“Again,” says the man behind Xemnas. Saïx keeps quiet and lowers his head in either a display of respect or exhaustion.

“Oh, I’m sure he’s just having an off day. Or  _ days,” _ says Xigbar, who then turns his head back to Xion, “Right, Poppet?”

She freezes at being addressed at all, but does her best to look neutral.

“Probably.”

Xigbar’s grin tells her the nervousness is obvious to anyone around her.

“Fine, then. If he’s feeling so ill, why doesn’t Xion here write the report instead?” The stranger says.

Saïx’s head snaps up at the man, and for a moment she swears he’s going to fall again. He holds himself up, however, and speaks.

“No, I can do it.”

“As if!” Xigbar taunts, crossing his arms as he looks at Saïx and receives a glare in response, “You look like you’re about to fall over. Go get some rest.”

Xion, too preoccupied with looking at Saïx and getting horrified at his miserable state, doesn’t notice a hand approaching her until it’s on her shoulder. She almost jumps back from it, refraining only due an incredible amount of self restraint. Xigbar pats it a few times, before turning to her with a smile.

“Poppet?”

“I can do it,” she says, to Saïx’s horror. He sends her a look that screams a plea for her not to go along with this, but what else can she do? He’s having trouble standing up, and while the ones around her are anything but concerned with his wellbeing, they do have a point when they say he’s not in any state to do anything but rest in his room.

_ It’s just a report. _

Or she hopes it is.

“Very well,” says Xemnas. A smile is on his face, one that sends shivers down her spine, “Ansem, would you be so kind to help him to his room?”

Ansem, the man she doesn’t recognize, simply nods and walks over to Saïx, who looks at him with a frown, then glances at her one last time. She gestures towards the entrance that leads to their rooms with her head. Before Saïx can protest, Xigbar pats Xion on the back, half pushing her towards Xemnas, who’s already walking towards the same hallway she went through yesterday in her heist. She complies, following him, and doesn’t look back at Saïx before going down the hallway.

She can feel his eyes on her back, though, and can only hope his worries are unfounded.


	9. IX. Lunatic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xion asks for more lessons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after a bit of a delay, here's this!

Ansem is infuriating to deal with, for reasons that sound contradictory. For someone that came from the same person that made Xemnas, he doesn’t quite have his knack for mystery. He’s blunter, almost like he has little patience for Xemnas’ spirals. Which, on the one hand, is a blessing to Saïx’s patience, but on the other, also means he’s quicker to shut him down, and harder to distract.

So he gave Saïx no opportunity to try to worm his way out of the encounter. Nothing he said had any effect, Ansem barely gave him the decency of a reaction. So he decided to keep quiet and just go along with it. He got in his room, and was planning on using the corridors to go to the office and get Xion out of there, but… he just fell to the floor, head screeching with pain again.

“Stop,” he whispers, futile, tugging at his hair so hard some thin strands are ripped from his skull. He can barely feel his knees on the cold hard floor. He can barely feel anything if not for how hollow his head is.

It’s become so routine at this point, so mundane, and somehow it’s still so horrible. Feeling his muscles beg to move in directions he did not ask them to move in, the numbness across his entire skin that he can only assume is close to the experience of being _dead,_ and the metal panging inside the emptiness of his head, threatening to overtake him.

Pressing his forehead against the floor doesn’t help, gripping his neck and skull doesn’t help, nothing does. At one point he can barely tell if he’s breathing anymore. His vision is more of an abstract painting than it is anything coherent.

But he keeps trying to get up, even though he fails every time, because the only thought he can form says that this is what will happen to Xion if he can’t get there in time. Part of him wants to give in, too, but he has no way of knowing of what the presence will do with his body, if it has any intention of giving it back. If it doesn’t give it back, he won’t get to apologize. He won’t get to see Lea again. He won’t get to say sorry to Roxas. And he won’t be able to speak to Xion again.

It’s almost funny how not so long ago he wouldn’t have so many objections, how when he was surrounded with darkness, he would probably be fine giving it full control of him. And now that it’s actually trying to take it by force, he doesn’t want to let go. Seeing another day means seeing her again, it means getting a day closer to seeing Lea again. Letting go now that it’s being asked of him, it’s unthinkable.

His mind swirls and swirls, and at some point his body gives up on holding itself up and he crashes on his side. It probably hurts, he has no way of knowing. He can only tell his head is on the floor because his vision clears for a split second, and he sees his desk from a sideways perspective. Then it goes dark with static spirals again, and he tries closing his eyes, but it makes no difference.

 

The wasteland he finds himself in is familiar, as is the rock not far from him. The sky is shaded with hues of sand, dancing around in the air with the strong winds. He’s on the floor, on his stomach, feeling some of said sand and even some small rocks on his face. There’s an unspeakable weight on his back, despite him seeing no one there. His surroundings are coated with heavy curtains of dust, and he can’t see anything, or anyone in the distance.

**_Alone._ **

The words ring in his head like a thought, but not one of his own.

**_You’ve always been alone._ **

_Not exactly._

He tries moving his mouth to speak, but can’t. His hands, dropped just above his head, try to push him up, but the pressure on his back is unbeatable. His thoughts don’t go ignored, however.

**_How so?_ **

_I had Lea._

**_Isa did, not you._ **

Saïx curls his hands into fists.

**_You have nothing. Axel left you. You’ve been alone for years now._ **

Those times before things got bad, when he and Axel spent time together away from everyone else, when Axel smiled at him so sweetly it was like his heart never left his chest, they were fogging in his mind. Fogging with jealousy, nostalgia, because things didn’t stay like that.

**_Saïx has no reason to exist. Your purpose has run its course._ **

Perhaps that is the case. His role as Xemnas’ right-hand had ended a long time ago. In a way, that never really was his part in the grand scheme of things, he was just someone else to be toyed with while he tried to do things behind his back, and failed to accomplish everything he set out to do. Until he died at the hands of a child who had far more wisdom and love in him than he ever could dream of.

**_You have nothing to hang onto anymore._ **

_I do._

But despite all of that, he can’t give up now. As selfish his reasons may be, he wants to keep going. If not for a lifetime, at least for a little bit longer; at least until he can get closure. After everything, after so long, he just wants to see his face, and listen to his voice again.

**_He won’t ever want you back._ **

He knows.

**_Why hang on until you can see him leave you behind again?_ **

Because his chest aches every time he thinks of him, every time he remembers those quiet moments where there was still hope that _something_ was still there. That they still shared a connection that was hanging on despite everything around them trying to break it. Because he feels like he’s about to die every time he remembers Axel’s passing, how he had a direct hand in that. How _that_ was how he said goodbye, the last time he spoke a word to Axel.

And part of him still hopes the connection is still there, he hopes because of how Lea looked at him last time he saw him, how he looked so surprised and so hurt, how he spoke his name.

**_You are not Isa._ **

But he wishes he was.

**_When he realizes Isa died a long time ago, he’ll kill you. Do you want to be there when that happens?_ **

Maybe it would be retribution. Maybe he should, in the end, be the one that ends him for good. Maybe it would even give him some peace.

The weight increases, he can barely breathe anymore, but he feels something wrap around his hand. Someone else holds it, gently, with small hands he could never mistake for anyone else’s.

_Xion._

He can’t look up, he can’t even move his head, but the aura that soothes him just enough that he’s able to take a deep breath when it should be impossible is unmistakable. The touch on his hand is soft and warming in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time.

**_The girl will leave once she has her real friends back._ **

He hopes so.

**_She loves them too much._ **

He knows.

The touch on his hand turns into a desperate grip, and though weakened, he does his best to return it. Maybe Xion would leave him, either because she’d realize she’s not okay with sticking around someone who’s wronged her so deeply in the past, or because her friends wouldn’t like to be around him. He doesn’t care, he wants her to leave him if it means being happy again, if it means she gets to stop looking so _sad_ whenever she recounts memories of Roxas and Axel.

In the end, he just wants her happy, free of her past chains, free to explore the world around her, free to see views she’s never heard of before just because she can. He wants her to be as free as her soul, able to relive the joy of discovering snow again anywhere, without having to be dragged back to hell once she’s done observing someone she doesn’t care about.

So all of that can happen, he has to make sure she’s safe, free of the parasite that’s plaguing his brain, untouched by the demons in this pathetic building. Xion is smart, she’s escaped before, he knows she could do it again on her own, but he wants to be there to help, he wants to be the one to let her go this time, much like Axel did back then. If it means getting left behind again, then so be it, he couldn’t care less. He’s gotten used to it by this point.

His free hand pushes against the ground and he manages to lift his chest off the ground.

**_What are you…?_ **

He brings his knee below him, lifting his upper body up as much as he can, holding her hand as tightly as he’s able to make sure she’s still there. He sits on his legs for a moment, looking at the ground, the storming sand around him, then feels a sharp pressure akin to a kick on his back. He falls forward.

**_Stop this charade._ **

But someone, _she_ catches him. She’s far too small to hold him up, but does it anyway, wrapping her arms around his thorax and letting his chest, instead of his head, rest on her shoulders, because he’s too tall for her. He lets his head hang down, hair falling on the sides of his face, with no energy to do anything else.

He can feel her chest rise and fall as she takes strong breaths, not once wavering under his weight. He feels his vision darken, but the warmth grounds him, and he finds the strength to put his arms around her too. There’s something on his back, pushing against him so strongly his spine might crack under the pressure, but he holds on, and so does she. The storm worsens, the sand hits his face like a thousand needles launched at lightning speed.

“Don’t give up,” she says.

“I won’t.”

 

His eyes snap open, and he’s still on the cold floor. He can feel it this time, and he can also feel his entire back complaining with sharp spots of pain all over it. His neck in particular feels especially stiff, and one attempt at looking around him being met with strong resistance is enough to tell him he should avoid moving it for a while.

Still, he worms the arm that’s under him around until his hand is able to push himself up, which he does while moving his neck as little as possible. He feels some joints crack as he sits up, and his entire back might have just popped. His eyes are heavy, but his headache is gone for now. He glances at the door, then turns his entire body to look at the bed behind him. Throwing himself on it is a very attractive proposal, until he remembers what he was planning on doing.

He practically jumps to his feet and opens a portal in front of him. His legs ache while he dashes through the darkness, and a sharp pain hits his thigh when he stops once he gets to his destination. Ignoring all of it, he opens another portal and before even exiting, sees that he’s too late. The office door is shut, the hallway is dark, as is the inside of the room. Dread washes over him, and he turns and runs back the way he came.

The place where he decides to exit the darkness for good is the meeting area, and he’s met with the sun rising outside, just barely above the horizon line. He gasps for air while he slowly understands what he’s looking at, and what it means. Looking around him, there’s no one in the room. It’s far too early for that.

His eyes dart to the hallway, and his neck complains loudly when he turns his head to it, but he runs towards it. The hallways are dark, and he doesn’t bother being silent when running down them. He brakes two doors before his, and hesitates for a moment, before knocking on it twice.

Some time passes, and no response comes, and he knocks again, louder and quicker this time.

“What…?” An unmistakable tiny voice answers, and he’s finally able to _breathe._

“Can I talk to you?” He blurts out. He doesn’t really have anything to talk about, but he won’t be able to calm his nerves until he sees her.

A few seconds pass, and she opens the door. Xion looks up at him with the same wide blue eyes she’s always had, and he can feel the weight of a thousand planets vanish from his shoulders. It’s not until she tilts her head in the same adorable way she always does that he remembers to speak.

“Can I come in?”

She hops back, and opens the door more so he can pass. He does, she shuts it behind him, and only then he feels free enough to let the worry show through on his face.

“Are you okay?” He asks, hands hovering near his stomach.

“Yeah? I should be the one asking,” she says, rubbing her face. Only now is he able to notice she looks just a little bit sleepy.

“Did I wake you up…?”

“You did,” she says, voice flat, “Am I late again?”

“No, I just… didn’t realize what time it is.”

She raises an eyebrow at him.

“What?”

“I wanted to check on you, that’s all.”

“What’s that for? Just because I reported back yesterday?”

“I thought they’d do something to you.”

“Like, destroy me?”

He looks to the side in a moment of carelessness, and his neck punishes him accordingly. A low grunt leaves him.

“You okay?” She asks, peering into his face like she always does.

“Yes. Just… didn’t sleep well.”

He rubs his neck to questionable results, and she eyes him, waiting for an elaboration with those wide blue eyes that always manage to reach inside his very soul and make him feel guilty for the smallest of offences.

“I thought you said no more secrets,” she says.

“...I’m not lying?”

“But you’re leaving stuff out.”

He bites the inside of his mouth. He’s become so used to speaking in vague terms, he barely even notices himself doing it anymore. Which is an asset when dealing with just about everyone, except her. Doing it to Xion just makes him remember memories of feeling very bad.

“Had a nightmare, and slept on the floor.”

‘Nightmare’ isn’t exactly right, but he’s not quite sure what else to call it. It almost felt real, but it obviously didn’t happen. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, perhaps he just fainted from the stress and woke up the morning after… or maybe he entered a trance and his brain deleted the memories in self defense. At this point, he’d believe anything.

“On the floor?!” She sounds so incredulous, like he actively chose the cold flat surface over the perfectly suitable bed. It’s a little bit insulting, really. Not that he minds it when it comes from her.

“I think I passed out. I didn’t get much choice in the matter.”

“Oh…” Her tone takes a nosedive into depressingly regretful, and her face reflects it perfectly. “Sounds like it sucked.”

“It did,” he smiles, despite everything. It calms her, a little bit. “Sorry for waking you up, I’ll let you sleep now,” he says, and turns to the door.

“Aw, now I’m not tired!” She hops in front of him before he can even raise his hand to reach for the handle, “What are you going to do?”

He considers going back to sleep himself, but he feels heavy in a way that tells him he won’t wake up on his own until he sleeps for ten hours more. And being woken up by anyone in this castle, as well as chastised for being late when he’s usually an early bird… none of it sounds like something he has the patience or energy to deal with.

“I’ll just head to the main area.”

The smile she gives him is enough to tell him he won’t be alone there.

 

It’s rare that he takes the opportunity to sit on the sofas available, but waking Xion up when the sun had barely shown itself only to then make her stand up staring at the dead outside was on another level of cruelty. So when they reach the meeting area, he sits down on the corner of the nearest sofa, and she settles right next to him, stretching her arms up when she does, letting out a little noise.

“Nothing happened yesterday, right?” He asks. Despite his concern, he can’t help but smile at how human all of her mannerisms are.

“Nope,” she says, finishing stretching her arms and looking at him as she settles her hands on her legs, “They didn’t even… mention the missing documents.”

He gives her a quiet nod, and looks down at the table. He finds it unlikely that Xemnas, Ansem and the others don’t know who is responsible for the theft. What they have to gain with letting her go unpunished is a mystery to him, but he won’t press anyone on the issue. He’s happy to let things keep going like this.

“Where did you put them?” He asks, drumming his fingers.

“On the boards under my bed,” she answers, lower, as she looks around to make sure no one is there to hear.

_It’s as good a place as any, I suppose._

“Well, keep them there. I wouldn’t recommend trying to return them.”

“Of course I won’t.”

He can’t help but chuckle at how offended she sounds. Like it would never cross her mind to return the documents. They’re her property now, how could he dare to suggest otherwise?

She smiles at him.

“Are we just going to stare off at nothing for an hour?” Xion asks.

“I told you you could go back to bed.”

“You woke me up, it’s your fault.”

“Oh, is it?”

“Uh huh.”

He turns his head to her, ready to send her his best unimpressed look he’s perfected over the course of many many years, but is again punished for his head turning crimes by his neck, and winces when the sharp pain hits him. She can’t keep the irritated façade up and breaks out in giggles.

“ _Now_ you laugh at me?”

“You’re just so easy to make fun of.”

The attack hits him directly in his pride, but somehow Xion looks just adorable enough laughing at his baffled face that she gets a pass.

“I hope you know you’re the only one that can get away with this sort of insult.”

The mischievous smile she shoots him is enough to tell him she’s well aware, and fully intends on continuing to use her powers for evil. Part of him is glad, after all it wouldn’t be Xion if she wasn’t constantly dragging his reputation through the mud all with a joyful stride. Part of him, however, wishes she could be just a little bit more merciful.

They both drop the smiles when footsteps approach from behind the couch. Saïx manages enough self restraint not to turn his head again, so it’s Xion who first catches a glimpse of the newcomer. She widens her eyes when she sees who it is, and seconds later, Saïx finds out why.

“Oh, sweet! You two are up.”

Demyx’s voice is loud and clear, and yet, Saïx just can’t believe he’s witnessing number nine himself display signs of life before the sun even finishes going above the horizon line. Xion keeps quiet, quickly assuming her puppet demeanor, and it makes Saïx’s chest tighten. Demyx is joyful in his walk towards the couch opposite to theirs, and Saïx is finally able to confirm with his own two eyes that he is, indeed, awake.

“Why are you up?” Saïx asks, even though his interest in the answer is minimal.

“Got too excited about my new job to sleep. What’re you doing?” He asks, the usual stupid smile on his face.

“Nothing in particular,” Saïx replies, raising an eyebrow. Xion is as still as a statue next to him.

“Really? Geez, I thought you were trying to apologize, not kill the kid with boredom,” he says, gesturing at Xion.

Saïx cannot even begin to form words for a reply. Xion is frozen next to him, now seemingly more out of confusion than any real fear. Demyx eyes them both with confusion, before bursting into laughter, and scratching the back of his head.

“Right, right, I guess he didn’t tell you!” He chirps, then leans forward in his seat, and points to himself, “I’m in on it now.”

Xion tilts her head, and Saïx blinks a few times while he processes the words in his head. When he _finally_ understands what he means, a frown reaches his face in an instant.

“Are you a complete idiot?” He says, crossing his arms. Xion snaps her head to him, even more lost.

“Whoa, hold on a minute!” Demyx flails his arms in front of him in a pathetic attempt of self defense, “What’s that for?!”

“Just go babbling about it, why don’t you?” Saïx says, and he feels the distinct tingling in his forehead that indicates a headache is on its way.

“There’s only three people in the room, and all of them are _in on it!”_

“People have ears, Demyx.”

“What, like you two weren’t just having a friendly chat just before I came in?”

The headache speeds up and slams onto Saïx with the strength of a thousand berserkers, and he feels a familiar sensation of absolute pure rage welling up in his chest.

“Um?” Xion’s tiny voice interjects, and Demyx has her to thank for soothing Saïx’s nerves and thus saving his life.

“It’s…” Saïx starts, then a very exhausted sigh leaves him and he slumps back on his seat. Xion watches him in horror, and he realizes he doesn’t want to leave her to her own devices to deal with the man in front of them. So he starts straightening his back again, but when he opens his mouth to speak…

“It’s just like what I said! I’m in on it now!” He smiles, seemingly proud of having beaten Saïx to the ground with his sheer stubbornness, “So you can talk to me no problem.”

Saïx shuts his mouth and glares at the man. Xion shifts nervously next to him, and he looks at her, softening, and gives her a weak nod. Her shoulders relax in response, and then turns to Demyx with curiosity.

“Why are you… in on it now?” She asks.

Demyx, delighted to be addressed, grins.

“Vexen asked me to help you guys out! And I said yes, because why not.”

“How can _you_ help?”

Saïx feels a hint of pride in his chest when she asks that, and seeing Demyx deflate before his very eyes without any input from him is cathartic.

“Man, how rude…” He glances up, catches Saïx’s pleased smile, and groans, “This is what happens when you hang out with Saïx for too long.”

“Perhaps,” she says, and shoots a knowing look at Saïx. Demyx watches it happen and seems to realize he’s not going to get any form of apology.

“Whatever… I’m your delivery guy.”

“What?” She asks.

“Your buddy needs a body, right? So I’m gonna hand one to Zexion when it’s done.”

Saïx isn’t quite sure she understands it in full, or if she even remembers who Zexion is, but she seems to grasp the situation enough to give Demyx a nod. Then, she smiles.

“Well… Thank you, then!” She says.

Demyx, perplexed at the display of genuine gratitude, takes a moment before giggling and scratching the back of his head again. It irritates Saïx just by virtue of it being him, but the joy Xion shows at the reaction is enough for Saïx to allow Demyx some peace. Just this once.

Watching Xion talk to Demyx is oddly soothing, really. As much as he hates to admit it, Demyx is a far better conversationalist than him, and can keep the chat going for enough time that he doesn’t have to worry about Xion getting bored in the meeting area. So he just lets them talk, and while he doesn’t exactly pay attention to most of it, he can delight in the occasional jab Xion hits Demyx with.

Unfortunately for both of them, Luxord and Xigbar both arrive in quick succession, and Xion retreats to her usual façade, while Demyx somehow does a decent enough job at pretending he’s not up to anything. Xigbar gives the duo a long glance before sitting next to Xion, and Saïx can see her freeze.

“Do you want something?” Saïx asks, barely turning his head to Xigbar.

“As if. I should be the one asking, you stole my spot.”

Saïx narrows his eyes. He did indeed. It wasn’t on purpose, and while he holds Xigbar’s comfort at a very low priority, part of him wishes he had just stayed at his window as always. Xion turns to Xigbar after a moment of hesitation.

“What is our mission today…?” Her voice is small.

“Oh, right. It’s training day for both of you again,” he says, looking at Saïx instead of her, “And I do mean both of you. We can’t have our guy collapsing after every mission, can we?”

Saïx frowns.

“Okay,” Xion says.

The rest of the morning goes by quickly, as Xigbar decides to have mercy on the duo today, and goes after the easy target (Demyx) instead. Xion shifts closer to Saïx, and is content with keeping quiet until Xemnas shoos them off to their tasks.

 

The familiar wasteland greets them with more sand than usual. The winds are stronger than the previous days, and kick up dust as they make their way on the environment. It’s far from a storm, but it’s strong enough that he has to shield his eyes when a particularly strong gust throws a lot of sand onto him.

A small noise of complaint leaves him, and the wind subsides. He opens his eyes when it’s safe to do so, only to find no Xion. He blinks a few times, looks around him, and only when he turns his entire body 180 degrees he sees her huddled behind him.

“Excuse you,” he says.

“What, you’re a good shield.”

The smile on his face widens before he turns back around and takes a few steps forward, intending to put distance between them so they can start the same training routine as before. But she stops him.

“Hold on!”

He turns to her.

“Can you show me how to use the claymore?”

Saïx blinks a few times, and presses his thumb against him palm. His eyes drop to the floor, and she takes a tiny step forward, then reaches her hand out, and summons her Lunatic again. He looks back at her, and the sight of his weapon makes his stomach turn. A frown reaches his face despite his best efforts, and when Xion brings her weapon behind her, she also tilts her head.

“I don’t know if it suits you,” he says.

“What does _that_ mean?”

“Just…” He turns his head again, and while the sting in his neck is softer, it still hurts. Still, he doesn’t look back at her, “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Xion lets her weapon disappear and rushes towards him in long steps. She puts her hands behind her and peers into his face, and as always, he can’t ignore her.

“Why not?”

“It’s not your weapon.”

“Well yeah, my weapon is the Keyblade. And I can’t summon it.”

“You should stick to the blade that’s similar to it, then.”

She frowns.

“Are you afraid of competition or something?”

“First, I don’t have the heart to be ‘afraid’ of anything,” he says, and it gets an eyebrow raise out of her, “Second, no, I just don’t like seeing you with it.”

“Why...?”

She looks like she wants to say something else, but holds her tongue to focus on the matter at hand. He clenches his jaw before speaking.

“It’s beneath you.”

Her frown disappears and her whole stance changes completely; her shoulders fall, and her hands are brought in front of her to hold each other.

“Why would it be…?”

“It, and the…” he swallows, “The thing you did, they’re not things you need to burden yourself with.”

Her hands drop to her side.

“Saïx, it’s just a weapon.”

“A weapon that runs on your anger.”

“Yeah, it’s a tool. And I want to learn how to use it. Are you trying to say I’m too good for it, or something?”

She hits the nail on the head, and Saïx has no reaction except avert his gaze to the ground. It’s odd, putting it that way, but she’s not wrong.

Lunatic is a gift given to him by the organization, the berserking ability is something he acquired because he had no other outlet for the bad memories piling up inside him. To him, they’re anything but neutral; at best, the weapon is a reminder of the years he spent doing Xemnas’ bidding, and at worst it’s a symbol of all the cruelty he has inflicted. The ability he holds is nothing more but a stain that, by its very nature, requires horrible things to constantly be in the back of his mind.

The girl in front of him has no need for these; she has no need to use another weapon gifted to her by the people that made her life hell. The sword she was given is already enough of a placeholder until she gets the Keyblade back. And someone like Xion may have a lot of reasons to feel anger and hurt, but he doesn’t think she needs to dwell on those memories enough that she’s able to go on a rage whenever is convenient (or inconvenient).

“It’s just a weapon,” she repeats, voice soft.

“It’s _my_ weapon.”

A reminder of who he is.

“Yeah…?” She eyes him with a worried look, then reaches her hand out, calling her Lunatic once again, “Look, whatever you think about it, I have a clone of your weapon now for whatever reason, and…”

Her voice trails off, and she stares at the hand holding it for long seconds. Saïx looks at the weapon, then at her, and sees her eyes move millimeters up, and down, and left, and right, then she slowly lets her hand fall to her side, and dematerializes it again. She looks at the ground, and just when Saïx is about to ask, she turns to him. She analyzes him for a moment, takes a quiet step back, then stares at her palms.

“I copied you weapon,” she says.

He doesn’t quite know what reply she’s hoping for, if any. Xion observes one of her hands, then the other, then drops them both to the side again and turns her head up to him.

“You’ve been feeling sick, haven’t you?”

“You could… say that, yes?”

“Did I do that?”

He blinks.

“What?”

“I sapped power out of Roxas when I copied his Keyblade, and now I copied your claymore so–”

“No,” he’s quick to interrupt, taking a step towards her, “No, that’s not what this is.”

Her hands fidget with each other, and she gets smaller when he speaks. She eyes him over, and for a moment her foot raises so she can take another step back, but refrains.

“How do you know?” She asks.

“Roxas could barely fight by the time you left. I’m just…” He pauses, “Going through episodes of lightheadedness. I can fight just fine. It doesn’t drain me.”

Xion stares up at him, hesitant. Part of him wants to tell her the full story, how he keeps getting pulled out of his own body and sometimes can’t feel his own skin because some entity is set on ripping his soul out of himself, but somehow he figures that won’t offer her any comfort right now. His chest aches with how guilty she looks, when she hasn’t done anything wrong at all. A sigh leaves him.

“I can show you how to use it,” he says.

She perks up, but the frown doesn’t leave her face.

“Really?”

“Yes. Summon it.”

A moment passes before she does. She’s hesitant before bringing it in front of her, between them. He glances at the weapon, and notices it’s just a tiny bit smaller than his.

_It’s Xion sized..._

A weird sensation comes to him when he realizes it. It’s just a bit endearing. He observes it for a few more seconds, then glances at Xion’s hand in specific. Seeing its placement, he reaches out to put his hands under the claymore, holding it up, then looks at Xion again.

“You’re holding it too high up,” he says.

She turns her head up at him, then looks at her hand again. He taps the handle with his thumb, then slides her hand further to the side. Xion blinks, lets go of Lunatic then places her hand on it again where Saïx pointed her to. He starts lowering his hands again to let her hold it on her own, but the claymore tilts downward and he supports it again.

“It’s way harder to hold it like this,” Xion says.

“The attacks are more effective if you do.”

“Are they? Is that how physics works?”

He lets go once more, slowly, and while her hand shakes while doing so, she manages to keep it in the air. A little sigh leaves her.

“You get used to it,” he says.

“I’ll get a broken wrist.”

“I’ve been using it since I was your age, I have never broken anything.”

“Since you were one year old?”

He pauses, frowns, and deflates when she giggles at him.

“You get my point. You’ll be fine.”

“Okay…”

He takes a few steps back, and summons his own weapon.

“Same as last time. Try blocking, no counter attacking yet.”

She nods, and he’s quick to leap towards her and strike down. Her claymore meets his with a loud crash, and a hiss of pain escapes her when it does.

“You _sure_ you never broke your wrist?” She asks. Despite it, she stands her ground.

“Absolutely.”

She puffs her cheeks at him, lets the air out in a huff and pushes him back. He strikes down again, and she blocks it once more.

“When did you join the organization?” She asks. “Since you’ve been using this… thing, for a long time.”

He narrows his eyes. She pushes his weapon away and he wastes no time in striking again, which she reflects as always.

“We were… around sixteen.”

“...Geez.”

After knocking him away, she takes a few steps back herself. Saïx pauses.

“You and A… Lea, you mean?”

“Yes.”

The painfully familiar nostalgia starts bubbling up inside him. Xion eyes him with curiosity, and he does his best to not let any of it show. How successful he’s being is a mystery. A few seconds pass, and she keeps quiet, returning to her stance. He takes it as a cue to continue his attacks.

They’re both silent when they resume the training. Xion eventually stops grunting in complaint every time they clash, but it’s clear in how she clenches her jaw that the experience is still far from pleasant. Saïx strikes one last time and, satisfied with the quick reaction, takes a few steps back.

“Counter attack,” he says.

She nods. He darts towards her, swings his claymore down, and after a quick block, she pushes him away and, with a delay, struggles to swipe the weapon up at him. Blocking it is easy. He opens his mouth to speak, but she’s faster.

“What’s your… somebody name?” She asks. “If… you’re okay with me asking.”

He narrows his eyes. The weight she puts on the claymore fades until the weapons are just touching each other with no real tension between them. His throat closes up for a moment, recounting the dream that had almost vanished from his mind completely up until now.

“You don’t have to–”

“Isa.”

She stops, and stares up at him with wide eyes. Then she blinks, and analyzes his face, all the while his chest struggles to move. It’s strange. He’s never told anyone before, Lea and the original members were the only ones who knew. He’s not opposed to her knowing, anyhow, but it’s still odd to say the name out loud. She senses his hesitation, and pulls her weapon away from his.

“Which do you prefer…?” She asks, barely hearable through the winds. He turns to her with a confused frown. “Saïx, or Isa?”

A moment passes before he answers.

“Saïx.”

It’s not a matter of preference, really, just of reality. Still, the tiny nod she gives him, it gnaws at him in a way he doesn’t quite understand. He swallows whatever it is that’s plaguing his mind, and readies for another attack, and she responds accordingly. He breathes in, and out, and speaks up.

“Put more strength in the swing. You’re too slow.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“You’re strong enough for it,” he says, and despite everything, a smile reaches him. One she returns.

He strikes again, and she blocks it with ease. When he’s pushed away, a low growl leaves her and she drags the claymore up, and the momentum gathered hits his Lunatic with a loud, sharp thud. He feels the impact travel through the handle to his arm.

“That’s more like it.”

It’s still far too clumsy, but he can forgive it, given that she barely has any experience with the weapon. She looks dissatisfied with her performance herself, and is quick to back off so she can try again. He complies, and when her second strike comes, it’s more controlled than her previous one. Still easy to block, though.

Xion looks far from pleased, still, and they repeat the process countless more times. Each time she’s just a little bit better than the last, but her frustration in clear in her eyes. She says nothing more, however, and he’s content with keeping quiet as well. An uncountable amount of time passes with them striking at each other’s weapons back and forth, with no blow actually landing from either side.

After failing for the umptenth time, Xion pushes his claymore away and steps back in a huff.

“Can we just do a match?” She asks.

“You’re still not good enough for that.”

She pouts at him. Usually he’d agree to it, but…

“I learn a lot faster if I’m actually fighting.”

He doesn’t want to. Their last match was… odd. Or at least that’s what he thinks. He doesn’t remember most of it. And it’s only now dawning on him that, perhaps, by putting himself in such a mentally vulnerable place as his berserker state, he might just have given free control of his body to the entity that’s plaguing him. His stomach turns at the realization.

He looks at her. She looked so exhausted last time, and little does she know now that she was probably fighting a Saïx that was fully intending on hurting her. Just the thought of raising his claymore against her in another fight now is enough to make a shiver run down his spine.

“That’s nonsense,” he says, narrowing his eyes, “It’s foolish to jump into battle when you don’t have the basics down.”

She huffs at him, but doesn’t exactly have a compelling argument.

They continue their training, and despite what she might think, she improves with every strike, though she never quite manages to land one on him.

 

They finished training early, and Saïx said it was because she looked tired, but truly it was due to how distracted she got the moment the sun started setting. At that point, getting her full attention was a lost cause, so he just let her have her way.

Now they sit on the same rock they always do, and Xion is delighted to just watch the gold stretch over the horizon. Saïx, in turn, is content with watching her instead. Her ability to find joy in the little things never fails to catch his attention. It rubs off on him more than he’d admit, but it’s far from a bad thing.

“Do you know where Axel… Lea is now?” She asks.

She’s said it so many times at this point that hearing his name doesn’t hurt as much. But it still stings, a little bit.

“Not exactly. I only know he’s allied with Sora.”

A little hum leaves her, as the gears turn in her brain.

“When a nobody dies, and so does their heartless, they recomplete the somebody that originated them, right?”

“Yes…?”

“So Axel died, and now he’s Lea.”

His eyebrows furrow, subtly, at the memory that comes with the statement. She doesn’t seem to notice.

“Correct,” he says.

“So… Okay,” she turns her entire body to him, and crosses her legs up on the rock. He tilts his head at the sudden attention, but keeps quiet, “When did Axel turn back into Lea?”

He swallows.

“It wasn’t too long after you vanished. Axel died helping Sora, after… sustaining fatal injuries,” he pauses, and pushes the words out of him, “Some of which I helped cause.”

She doesn’t react much, only giving him a subtle nod. Somehow it’s worse than if she had done anything else. The lack of response… he can’t help but wonder if it’s because she had already guessed that was the case.

“And Roxas went back to Sora eventually. Did any other nobodies get destroyed?”

“...All of them?”

She blinks in surprise.

“Huh?”

“We were brought back by Xehanort and the rest, but everyone fell to Sora’s hands or… other circumstances.”

Vexen fell to Axel. So did Zexion.

“Wait, so you did too?”

He nods. A frown he’s come to know well reaches her.

“I’m… sorry? That must have sucked.”

He fixates at a random point on the floor.

“Being brought back was worse than dying.”

She keeps quiet, eyes on him.

“It was just… getting to have a heart again, for a moment, before having it ripped away,” he says.

He didn’t want to come back, but what he wants has hardly been what matters for the past decade.

“Oh.”

A quiet chuckle leaves him, despite the grim topic.

“Well, Isa had enough of a conscience to decide to apologize, so… at least it wasn’t all bad.”

Her blue eyes widen when he says that, and she scans him. It’s uncomfortable, and he looks away, retreating into his own thoughts. Isa had a conviction, one strong enough Saïx still carries it, despite the absence of a heart in his chest.

“Do you… not consider yourself the same person?”

He looks at her again, and she has her hands neatly put on top of each other on her lap.

“Not… really, no.”

“Axel and Lea, then?”

He bites his cheek, and taps his fingers in thought. As much as he chastised Axel for changing too much back then, his core personality really stayed constant. An idiot who cares too much, sometimes to his own detriment. That was Lea, and was also Axel. His priorities were what shifted, in a way Saïx decided was inconvenient back then.

“They’re the same,” he says.

“So why is Isa not you?”

“Because,” he pauses, “Isa wasn’t cruel, Isa didn’t wield the Lunatic, and Isa didn’t have the ability to enter a rage induced state.”

Her hands shift on her lap for a moment.

“Do you want your original heart back, Saïx?”

He narrows his eyes.

“...Yes?”

“Will you become Isa again, when you get it back?”

_If._

He doesn’t quite have the courage to correct her out loud, but something in him has been twisting in his lungs; something telling him that he may never get it back. He brushes it aside the best he can.

“Yes.”

She leans forward.

“With the same memories as Saïx,” she says.

“...I suppose.”

“Wouldn’t that still make you Saïx, then? Just like the Riku here is still Riku.”

He swallows, and his tapping turns into clutching at the rock while he thinks. The memories of what Saïx did would never leave him, he knows, he always knew, but he always hoped a heart would somehow fix it. What ‘it’ means, he’s not quite sure, it’s changed over the years: with a heart he’d be human again, everything between him and Lea would go back to the way it was, he’d feel less lacking in purpose. The idea that Saïx is Isa, and vice versa, is one that’s been in the back of his mind for years, but it’s always been an uncomfortable noise he refuses to acknowledge. If Saïx is Isa, and Saïx is unforgivable, as he knows, then so is Isa.

“I don’t mean that in a bad way,” she says, shifting closer, and leaning to the side in an attempt to follow his gaze, “I like Saïx. I hope Isa is like you.”

He turns to her, confused, with no idea how to begin to reply. There’s something buzzing in his chest. It gets stronger when she offers him a smile, but he doesn’t mind it. The whole situation just baffles him, really. She mercifully speaks up again.

“I just think you’re selling yourself short.”

One of his hands drifts to his chest, but he doesn’t catch himself doing it. Xion’s smile widens at it, though.

“I’m… thankful you think so,” he says. 

He’s unable to say anything else, really.  She doesn’t follow it up with anything herself.

He’s more than happy to let the quiet stay, and watch the sunset with his friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 50k words. man thats a lot huh......  
> also, properly giving demyx screen time in chapter 9, the chapter with his number, was completely unintentional but i'm pretty happy about that. sometimes stuff just works out


	10. X. Happy memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Past regrets, fond memories and hopes for the future.

Xion wakes up to a knock on her door again. She rushes to open it, this time. Seeing Saïx first thing in the morning is far from the worst experience, even though she has a word or two to say about being woken up this early. She reaches the door, opens it, and to her disappointment, it's not her friend she sees, but to her relief, it's not someone she’s completely opposed to talking to.

“Good morning, Xion,” says Vexen.

“Morning.”

He eyes her over in silence before speaking.

“Saïx told me things of concern came up, so I requested you be given another day for examination. That is, today.”

Xion tilts her head to the side, holding her hands together. She’s not quite sure what Vexen means by ‘things of concern’, but she is hardly the one to complain about another day off.

“Right now?”

The quick nod Vexen gives her is all he offers as a reply. He then turns, without a word, and she follows him down the hallway. He waits until they reach the meeting area to open a portal in front of them, but is swiftly interrupted by another familiar voice before he can even begin to think about stepping in.

“Yo, Vexen!” Demyx waves from his seat on the couch. Vexen turns to him, neutral, and raises an eyebrow.

“You’re _awake?”_

“Why’s that so surprising?” Demyx gets up, and stretches his arms above him, “I get excited when I have a job I actually want to do.”

A low groan comes from Vexen, quiet enough that Demyx probably doesn’t get to hear it, but loud enough that Xion can. An amused smile reaches her face, and she’s content with watching the two go back and forth.

“You still won’t have anything to deliver for some time.”

“Yeah, well, that makes me more excited!” Demyx says, and a frown reaches his face when Vexen gives no reply. “Listen, do you want me to work hard or not?”

The most exaggerated sigh Xion has ever heard comes out of Vexen’s mouth. And she thought _Saïx_ was the one that was always cranky… Demyx, in contrast to the fountain of gloom next to her, has a wide grin reach his face.

“What are you two gonna do?”

Vexen narrows his eyes in a way that suggests to her that he doesn’t plan on giving a real answer… but Demyx is so nice, so why not? She decides to take matters into her own hands.

“I’m going to his lab to get some stuff checked out,” she says, loud and clear, and Vexen snapping his head to her in horror tells her she made the right choice.

Demyx all but hops to them, then places his hands on his hips. He addresses Xion while completely ignoring Vexen’s existence, and the fact he might have just taken a step away from him.

“Can I come?” Demyx asks.

A mischievous smile curls up on her face, and sensing the irritation from Vexen increase every millisecond she doesn’t offer an answer is enough to make it widen. Vexen gets sick of waiting (or hoping) for her to turn him down, so he opens his mouth to speak, and that is the moment Xion speaks up again.

“Sure!” She chirps, and sees Vexen slump and send her a half glare next to her. Demyx, in contrast, is ecstatic.

 

She’s the first to enter the lab when they get there, and is delighted to see Saïx waiting patiently on a chair next to the desk. He raises his head, which was resting on his hand, when he sees her. She dashes to him, and offers a wide smile.

“Morning!”

“Good morning.”

He returns it with one of his own, one that vanishes the moment he looks behind her and assumedly sees that Demyx is also present. A scowl takes his face.

“Goooood morning!” Demyx chirps, eager in a way that makes Xion wonder if it’s intentionally irritating. Saïx suddenly looks _so_ tired, and she giggles at the reaction.

“What are you doing here?” He asks.

Demyx, still strengthened by Xion’s kindness, seems unaffected by his glare. Vexen walks over to a drawer at the side of the room, in search of one of his countless equipments.

“Xion invited him,” he makes a point of saying, before opening another drawer when he fails to find what he wants.

Saïx glances at her and raises an eyebrow, to which she only responds with an innocent tilt of the head coupled with a small smile. Any irritation in him goes away, and all that’s left is the exhaustion when he leans back in his seat.

“Yeah, ‘cause she’s the only one that appreciates me,” Demyx says, crossing his arms and resting his back on the wall. Xion hears a low, long sigh leave Saïx next to her, and she ignores it by shooting a bright look at Demyx. One he’s more than happy to return.

Vexen shuts the drawer he was looking into with a thud that is, perhaps, louder than necessary, then walks over to the examination area with an instrument in his hand. He doesn’t have to say anything for Xion to follow suit, and sit on the chair next to him. He raises the tool in his hand, and she promptly reaches her arm out for him to look at it, much like she did last time.

“What is the issue that brought you here?” Vexen asks. Xion has no idea herself, but Saïx answers for her.

“She copied my weapon.”

Vexen pauses his examination, and glances at her. She gives him a small nod, and he steps away and straightens his back, bringing a hand to his chin and looking at the wall in thought. Xion lets her legs wave back and forth in anticipation, and can see Saïx waiting intently himself. Demyx is quiet, too.

“Is that so?” Says Vexen, bringing his eyes back to her.

A second passes before she takes it as a cue to reach her hand out, and summon the claymore into her hands. Vexen takes a step back in surprise, and she thinks she sees Saïx wince in the corner of her vision. Demyx all but jumps in place, bringing his hands in front of him in self-defense.

“Whoa!” He exclaims, before lowering his arms and taking a small step forwards, “It’s just like the real thing!”

“It’s a bit smaller, actually,” Saïx says, low enough that she barely hears it.

Vexen keeps quiet, and she lets the weapon disappear again. She turns her head up to look at him, while he taps his chin in thought. He looks back at her, then turns to glance at Saïx, before returning his attention to her and crossing his arms.

“When did this happen?”

She bites her cheek, and Saïx himself turns his gaze to the ground.

“The day before yesterday, in a mission,” she says, then pauses to consider what else to include. Thankfully, Vexen speaks up before she even has the chance to continue.

“Anything else you’ve copied?”

She looks to Saïx, and he meets her gaze before turning his eyes to Vexen. A few seconds pass, he turns to her again, and gives her a small nod of encouragement.

“The, um, berserk ability.”

Vexen lets out a quizzical hum, and Demyx seems to shrink in place at the realization that there are now two people perfectly capable of using the power of the moon and anger against him. Saïx is staring at the floor. Arms crossed, Vexen taps his fingers in thought, and the more the silence persists, the more uncomfortable it gets.

“Am I sapping power out of him?”

Saïx turns his head to her, silently.

“I don’t think so,” says Vexen.

“But he’s been feeling sick…?”

Vexen narrows his eyes, and Demyx turns to Saïx in curiosity, seemingly unaware of the fact. Saïx does his best to ignore him.

“You absorbed powers before because your old body was designed to. Your new one isn’t.”

“How do you explain this, then?” She says, gesturing her hand like she would if she were about to summon the claymore again.

“It is quite interesting,” he says. “I am wondering the same myself. My best guess is that it’s just part of your nature.”

She tilts her head. The two other men in the room also seem interested, looking at Vexen intently. Pushed by the attention, Vexen speaks up again.

“You’re just predisposed to being a bit of a sponge because of your past body. It’s part of being Xion, so to speak.”

She frowns.

“So I’m not making him weaker…?”

“You’re not copying memories, are you?” He retorts, and she shakes her head in negative after some hesitation. “So probably not. You likely just got it due to spending so much time with him, and him alone. Due to your… connection.”

She blinks a few times, brings a hand to her chest, and looks back to Saïx. He seems as lost as she is, staring at Vexen, expecting more elaboration. When it never comes, he returns her gaze, and says nothing.

“So they’re such good buddies she straight up has a claymore now?” Demyx breaks the silence. “Like, is that how that works?”

Vexen raises an unamused eyebrow.

“If you need a simpler way to be able to understand it, sure.”

“Well, okay… wait, what’s _that_ supposed to mean?!”

“You know what it means.”

“Dude…!”

Demyx slumps back, and Xion watches it with a smile. Vexen sighs, and turns to her again.

“Anything else?”

She waves her legs back and forth while she thinks. Saïx seems to have nothing to say this time, and she doesn’t have any other questions herself. So she shakes her head in negative.

“Fine, then. I might as well run some tests again, just to make sure.”

The same tedious examination from before is repeated. Saïx watches it all intently, and Demyx looks like he’s a few seconds from falling asleep all throughout it.

 

She thinks Saïx knew she was going to drag him into the open wasteland again. Just like she started being able to read him better, it appears Saïx himself has started becoming fluent in how she behaves and thinks. So when she asked him to come with her, he expressed no surprise, only gave her one of his small smiles. She treasures each and every one of those in her memory.

The winds are worse than the day before. After a particularly strong gust, she’s afraid she won’t be able to open her eyes at all without getting dust in them. But the weather calms down, after a few seconds, and she’s able to see Saïx looking at her with an amused expression.

“Not hiding behind me this time?”

“You got mad, didn’t you?”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. He chooses not to elaborate, and after a roll of the eyes, Xion stretches her arms above her and walks until she’s in front of him, wind blowing against her back.

“Can you continue training me?”

The fond expression fades from his face, and surprise takes over. He stops to think it over, a slight frown reaching him, then lets out a sigh.

“Yes.”

Xion wastes no time in getting to her designated position, and they pick up right where they left off the previous day. Reinvigorated, Xion puts an incredible amount of strength in each strike, and she can see Saïx slowly but surely start having more difficulty keeping up with her swift pace. Maybe her attacks aren’t as strong as his, but she has experience battling with speed, and in that regard, it’s starting to look like she might best him.

Sure enough, after countless clashes, she shoves his claymore down with hers and swiftly brings her weapon up again in a strike that hits him directly in his chest. Saïx stumbles back, still holding his Lunatic tightly, and with a short grunt puts his free hand over where she just hit him. He presses on it, removes his hand to look at the wound, then turns to Xion with a proud smile. One she’s more than happy to return.

“Gotcha!” She chirps, twirling the heavy claymore in her grasp.

“Well done.”

She hops over to him, and brings her hands behind her, still holding the weapon.

“Do I get a match now?” She asks.

He eyes her with suspicion, and his eyebrows furrow at her excited grin.

“You only hit me once, and you want to fight already?”

“I told you I learn better with a match! It worked out last time, didn’t it?”

He raises an eyebrow. She _is_ using the expression in very broad terms… whatever happened last time that left Saïx curled up on the ground shaking like a newborn deer isn’t exactly in her definition of success, and she dearly hopes that it won’t happen again. Still, she did get a better handle on her blade after that battle. Saïx doesn’t seem to share her eagerness, however.

“I would rather we continue doing exercises for a little longer. It’s safer that way,” he says.

She’s not quite sure what he means by ‘safer’, but she doesn’t feel like pushing it.

“Fine…”

A pout comes to her involuntarily, and Saïx responds to it by placing his hand on her head and messing up her hair. She waves his hand away, but can’t hold her annoyed expression for long, when faced with his satisfied look.

So she complies, and they go back to the increasingly tedious routine of strike, block, strike, block, over and over. Every now and then Xion does manage to hit him again, and every time he looks as proud as he did the first time it happened. If anything, that’s what keeps her focused, rather than any real interest in the activity. Still, she can’t help but let her thoughts wander, and doing so helps her remember something else.

“Wait, pause,” she says. He promptly pulls his weapon away, and tilts his head ever so slightly.

“Yes?”

“Can you show me how to, uh…” She taps some fingers on her leg while she thinks, “Berserk?”

His surprise isn’t unexpected, and neither is the heavy frown that comes right after, when he looks away. He lets his weapon disappear, and keeps quiet while he contemplates, gaze drifting to the floor. She watches it all with a careful eye, and lets her own claymore dissipate to take a step closer. He turns to her again, and after a few seconds of silence, speaks.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“This again?”

His eyes narrow at her, and she can sense a hint of frustration.

“It hinges on the worst of your memories, it requires you to essentially relive all of it just to get a surge in strength.”

“And?”

He looks indignant.

“I don’t want that for you.”

Some air escapes her in a tiny sigh, and she softens. Saïx’s eyes fixate on the ground again, a slight frown still on his face, and she takes another step towards him, though he doesn’t look at her. She observes him for a moment. Xion understands his point and his concern, she’s glad he cares enough to worry, but…

“I already did it once.”

“You don’t have to do it again.”

“You know I have plenty to be mad about.”

He observes her face in silence, and she looks back at him, determination clear in her eyes.

“I do.”

“I’m going to think about these things one way or another,” she says, then pauses, “Whether I like it or not. Whether you like it or not.”

He gives her a weak nod, but still stands his ground.

“So,” she continues, “I might as well put that to use.”

“I don’t know if…” His voice drifts away, and she keeps quiet, patiently waiting for him to continue. He takes a small breath, then closes his eyes, gathering the will to make the words leave him, then opens them again, “I don’t know if I can.”

She presses her lips together and pauses. The winds pick up again while she thinks, their sound perfectly filling the gap left by their silence. This kind of admission coming from Saïx’s is a rarity, which only tells her how much he doesn’t want to follow through. Still, she’d rather have someone to teach her, than let it activate on its own again and drive her to do who knows what in a fit of rage. She hurt him, back then. What if the same thing happens again, except this time she doesn’t tire herself out fast enough and does lasting damage? The thought of it is enough to make her stomach turn.

“Can I just,” she speaks up, and has his full attention, “just try to use it, and you help me control it?”

His furrowed eyebrows are enough to tell her he still doesn’t like the idea, but as he often seems to do, when he looks at her for long enough, he yields.

“...Fine.”

She gives him a nod, and takes a small step back. He eyes her over, eyes deeply afraid in a way that’s rare for him, and shakes his head in affirmative himself. She takes a deep breath, holds it, and closes her eyes before letting it out in a deep sigh. She can feel a buzz in her chest, ready to burst into flames, and she’s careful to feed the fire.

And doing so is painfully easy. Just thinking about Roxas and Axel is enough, how much she misses them both. Their days in the clock tower were so numerous, and yet just weren’t enough. She wishes they could have lasted forever, she wishes they could have gone to the beach like Axel suggested one day. One time one of them, she can’t remember which, suggested they all run away, and maybe they should have. They had nowhere to go, and Xemnas would have probably hunted them down anyway, but there was a slim chance it would work out, wasn’t there?

Now they’re all separated. Roxas doesn’t have a body. Lea doesn’t even remember her. What does Lea think, she wonders. Does he think he only had one friend, that Roxas was the only one who he shared ice cream with? He doesn’t remember when he suggested the plan that saved her skin when she lost her Keyblade, he doesn’t remember getting embarrassed at her complimenting him. He doesn’t remember helping her time and time again, giving her answers even though he was terrified to do so.

Her breathing picks up, and she can feel extra energy pumping through her veins. Her throat closing up. She opens her eyes, looking down, and her vision is somehow both too blurred and too sharp. She can barely process Saïx in front of her, the colors of the world hurt her eyes. Anxiety creeps up, fogging her brain, and a feeling that something is wrong explodes in her chest. She swallows, clenches her jaw and stumbles two steps back. Her hands are brought to her hair, tugging at it. The pain that comes with it is controlled, and she focuses on it, tightening her grip when she feels her emotions trying to worm out of her grasp. She feels Saïx’s presence step closer, and for some reason her mind begs her to summon the weapon to defend herself.

But she manages not to. She shuts her eyes, opens them again, and stays still if not for her shaking hands tugging at her scalp. Saïx raises his own hands and slowly brings them closer to her head, and while the image of anything approaching her through the corner of her vision sends deafening alarm bells through her head, she stays still. Saïx’s hands are gently placed over her own, and after a moment making sure she won’t struggle away, he slowly pulls her hands away from her hair. She resists for a second before her brain catches up to her movement, then lets him bring her hands down. He lets go once he guides them in front of her, and she stares at her palms for some seconds, before looking up at him. He looks pained, wary.

“Summon it,” he says, quiet, and takes a small step back, “I’ll summon mine too, don’t attack.”

She swallows, and wordlessly complies. He materializes his own weapon behind him, and the sight of it is enough to ignite deep anxiety inside her. She swallows the feeling and settles with staring at him.

“I’m going to attack you,” he says, and she observes him with glowing eyes. Though he doesn’t seem to like the experience, he puts effort in maintaining eye contact. “Don’t counter attack. Just block.”

She nods, and he bends down, preparing to lunge forwards. His movements are deliberate, exaggerated so she can tell exactly what he’s doing, and she watches it all like prey begging to the powers above not to be spotted. He leaps forward, and when he swings the claymore down, she blocks the attack so fast she barely even processes herself doing it. Looking at him behind the weapons, she wants to pull back and counter, but she refrains. He scans her, before speaking up.

“Again,” he says. He pauses before moving, and only after a few seconds pass she realizes he’s waiting for her to agree.

She gives him a quick nod. He steps back, and brings the weapon above his head and swings it down. She recoils at the sight, and brings her claymore over her head to block it. The crash is louder this time, and it pierces her ears and echoes in her skull. Looking up, at the Lunatics above her head, her chest starts screaming for her to run; her pupils, invisible under the glow of her eyes, shrink in terror. Though she doesn’t realize it, her breathing picks up with desperate and inefficient gasps for air. Saïx’s eyes widen, and he takes many steps back, making his weapon vanish. Xion still grips at hers, desperate, pointed at him. She stares at him with caution.

“Xion,” he says, calm in a way that seems like fantasy.

She opens her mouth to say something, anything, but only incoherence comes out. He brings his hands in front of him, as if to show he’s unarmed, and she slowly puts her weapon down.

“Make it vanish,” he says.

She blinks once, then twice, then shuts her eyes and despite her entire body screaming for her not to, she wills the Lunatic away and it dissipates. Some time passes with her still, eyes shut, and the silence is broken by him.

“Look at me,” he says. She wordlessly opens her eyes and does so. He has his hands in front of him, still. She swallows some of the panic still trying to make her run away, shuts her eyes again, and focuses on willing the state away. She breathes in, and out, and in, and out…

“Xion,” he calls again. She looks up at him, and feels the last of the adrenaline rush leave her. She lets out a big sigh, and gathers as much air as she can again. Finally, she can breathe, and the light around her doesn’t hurt her eyes anymore. She swallows some remaining fear that still lingered in her throat, and as it fades, she feels her body grow heavier again. Though not quite as bad as last time, her legs struggle to carry her own weight.

Saïx takes a step closer, and sees her lack of reaction as permission to rush to her. She looks at him, then at her palms.

“Everything okay?” He asks.

“Yes,” she says, and despite everything, smiles, “Thanks. I think I get how to keep it under control.”

Managing the fire is key, as hard as it may be.

“I didn’t do much.”

His voice is concerned, still. The slight frown on his face is similar to the one he gave her when she woke up after passing out. But, emotionally, she feels much better this time. Physically, though, her feet are begging her to sit down, and her arms hurt even though she’s carrying absolutely nothing.

“I don’t think I can continue training,” she says, sheepish, and his lips curl up at it.

“Tired?”

“Yeah.”

 

Saïx insisted she go to her room and take a nap, but she’s not one to waste precious free time with sleep, especially when she knows she could spend time with someone she likes instead. So, as always, they sit down on their rock, and stare at the sky. She’s happy to stretch her legs forwards, trying to get some of the stiffness out of her, to questionable results.

“You’re not planning on picking up that sword ever again, are you?” Saïx asks, looking up at the clouds. His tone hardly makes it sound like a question.

“Nope,” she answers, now putting her right arm forwards and pulling her hand back in an attempt of stretching her wrist. She hears a sigh come out of him.

“What’s so wrong with it?"

“It just reminds me that I can’t get my actual weapon,” she puffs her cheeks and finally turns to him, “The claymore is different enough that it doesn’t do the same.”

“...Fair enough.”

He sounds more defeated than anything else, but at least seems to grasp her point. She’s more than happy to agree to disagree on this subject, given that the claymore appears to carry some baggage to him. Xion has little interest in making Saïx think too much about it.

“I do still want my Keyblade back, though,” she says, pushing the subject away from the Lunatic, “I don’t get why I can’t call it. Is it because I’m incomplete?”

He taps his fingers before answering.

“I wouldn’t say you’re... incomplete. It was a mistake on my part, before.”

She eyes him, head tilted, but he seems perpetually enthralled by the blue painted with gusts of sand above. She bites her cheek for a moment, gazing at the tiny rocks getting dragged by the breeze.

“How do Keyblades work, anyway?”

“That’s a complex question.”

She can’t help but snort at the reply, spoken so seriously. Though he turns to her unimpressed, Saïx says nothing more to elaborate. Raising an eyebrow at him, though, appears to be enough to push him into continuing.

“I’m not sure myself,” he admits.

A slow nod comes from her, and before she can go back to letting her mind wander, he speaks up again.

“You can ask Lea when you see him again.”

Saïx bringing him up voluntarily has been happening more often lately, she assumes it’s due some guilt left over from refusing to do so before. Still, she can’t help but be a little surprised by it every time it happens.

“Why’s that…?”

She had always been happy to bring her questions to Axel, as he usually tried to answer them the best he could. But Keyblades don’t sound like something in his area of expertise.

“He has one now.”

She blinks in surprise. Then feels joy bubble up inside her.

“Really?!” She asks, perhaps a bit more excited than she should be. Saïx observes her enthusiasm with amusement before speaking.

“He got one recently,” he says, then his smile fades, “Which also means he’ll probably clash against the organization again.”

Her legs, that were previously waving back and forth freely, gradually stop moving when she realizes just what that means.

“We’re fighting against him?”

He drums his fingers against stone before speaking up.

“ _We_ aren’t, necessarily, it depends on how things go,” he pauses, narrowing his eyes the smallest amount, “but it does mean you can meet up with him and escape then. Convenient, in a twisted way.”

“I mean, you too, right?”

The glance he gives her makes her chest hurt.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You’re escaping with him too.”

Some seconds pass where the only sound in the wasteland is the sand flying in the air.

“If things work out,” is all he says.

“If things don’t work out,” she pauses, and swallows some frustration, “are you staying behind?”

“It’s one way to put it, I suppose.”

“You can escape too,” she insists, and his expression is blank enough that it makes make anger grow inside her.

“I’m not going to lie to you and say I know for sure that’s what will happen.”

The wind picks up.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

He shuts his eyes for a second, wincing at something. The moment he raises his hand only to force it down again when he remembers she’s staring right at him, she realizes what it is. She opens her mouth to voice concern, but he’s faster to speak up.

“There,” he gets the first word out, then pauses to take a shallow breath, “are things tying me to them, whether I like it or not.”

Any part of her that wants to argue against the words coming out of him is shot down when he starts struggling to gather air. He looks away from her, like it would hide any of his body language, and curls up his hand into a fist, pressing his fingers against his gloved palm. Her shock wears off after a couple of seconds, but before she can do anything, he speaks again.

“Sorry, I,” his voice is barely a whisper, and he shifts forwards to let himself slide down to the floor. She hurries to follow him, hopping down the rock and kneeling on the ground next to him. He presses his back against the stone, gives up on the façade of feeling alright and brings a hand to his face. It’s the only thing keeping his head from hanging lifelessly forwards. Xion watches it all at a loss.

“Saïx,” she starts, keeping her voice calm so, at the very least, he won’t concern himself with her. “Do you know what this is?”

The hand all but claws at his face, at his now ghostly pale skin starting to drip with cold sweat, but he does his best to gather enough air to answer, though he doesn’t turn to her.

“I have a good guess,” the words leave him rushed.

“So w–”

He winces at her voice, curling up in a way that’s painfully wrong when contrasted with his usual composure, and she snaps her mouth shut. The sand of the winds scratches at her face, but she doesn’t raise her hand to shield herself from it. Xion just watches him, frozen in place. He stops gasping for air for a second, to speak.

“Keep talking,” he says, and it sounds more like a plea than anything else, but she’s quick to comply.

“What is it, then?”

The hand that isn't clutching at his face curls up against the floor, with the tips of his fingers scraping hard enough against the surface that the fabric of his gloves may end up torn.

“Xehanort needs bodies,” he manages to let out before running out of air again, “vessels,” he continues, then before he can say anything else he curls up, almost bringing his knees to his chest.

She’s not sure she understands, but if there’s anything she’s sure of, it’s that he’s not in any state to offer her answers. She swallows a knot of frustration, and does her best to calm herself before speaking up again.

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

He pauses, and her chest fills with hope when he does, desperate for any sort of affirmative answer. He lets go of his face, still keeping his hand close to it, and stares blankly at his palm. His shoulders rise and fall with small gasps for air coming out of his mouth. An eternity passes before he shuts his eyes, and brings his hand to his forehead, wincing again. Though less violently than before.

“Just,” he breathes in, “keep talking.”

Xion bites the inside of her mouth before doing so.

“Does it help…?”

“Helps me know that I’m here.”

Her stomach turns at the answer, with a particular kind of dread coming with the realization she has no idea what’s happening to him, and what his reply might mean. Still, she’s desperate not to let the quiet creep back in.

“What are you feeling?” Is all she can think to ask.

The hand on the ground curls up into a fist, one so tight his hand starts shaking even more than before.

“Empty,” he says.

“What,” she swallows when she hears her voice waver, “what do you mean?”

“I can’t see,” he says, opening his eyes for a second, and she feels her throat hurt when he doesn’t correct himself before closing them again, “I can’t feel anything.”

Her jaw clenches when she frowns. Before she can ask for clarification, he speaks again.

“I can’t feel my body.”

Her whole being freezes, and her eyes shoot down to his hand. She glances back and forth between his face and it before reaching out and gently placing her hand on top of his. She looks back at his face, hopeful for any sort of reaction, but he gives her nothing.

“Anything? At all?”

“No.”

Her frown intensifies, and so does her grip around him. She looks down at it again. After a moment of thought she reaches out with both of her hands and scrapes his up from the floor. She shifts closer so she’s sat, legs crossed, next to him, and after a couple of seconds trying to pry his fist open, she turns to him.

“Relax your hand,” she says.

His head turns to her in confusion, but his eyes are so hazy she doubts he’s able to focus on her at all. Some time passes, but it appears he has no energy to ask for clarification, so he says nothing and stares off at some blurred point at the ground ahead of them. She feels his hand uncurl, and is quick to take the opportunity to take hold of it. She gently pulls it down so it’s in her grasp and resting on her leg. Her grip around it tightens, but he doesn’t react. His fingers are still relaxed, not grasping back at her, and it truly does appear Saïx is unaware she’s touching him at all.

“Is this how you passed out that time?” She asks, voice low, looking at the hand under hers.

“Yes.”

He says nothing else. His voice is starting to sound more exhausted than desperate, and she’s not sure if it's a change for the better.

“Do you think you’re going to pass out now?”

“No,” he says, then pauses. “I don’t know,” he corrects.

She can’t help but notice how cold he feels, even through the fabric of their gloves. Her attention snaps back to him when he removes the hand from his forehead, and lets his head hang low, eyes empty of focus. His eyes are heavy, in a way she doesn’t think she’s ever seen on any other person before.

The sight hurts her. She doesn’t want to think about how horrible the experience must be, and she especially doesn’t want to think about how this is far from the only time he’s acted like this. Before, she was under the impression he was just feeling weak, dizzy, but knowing he can’t feel himself at all through these incidents makes everything so much worse.

If she can’t help him physically, then she at least wants to help him emotionally. Maybe talking about something pleasant will take his mind off of the numbness. She hopes it will.

“What makes you happy?” She says.

“What…?”

He doesn’t turn to her when he asks.

“Think of something that makes you happy,” she says, and squeezes his hand, “Maybe it’ll calm you down…?”

“I don’t have the heart to feel that,” he says, voice almost a whisper.

She grits her teeth, but she’s aware this is not the time to argue.

“Happy memories, then,” she says, “What are some happy memories?”

She thinks of bringing up Lea herself, but given how volatile his composure is whenever they speak of him, perhaps it isn’t the brightest choice.

“I…” He shuts his eyes, and his breathing appears to calm, “Arendelle.”

“Hm?” She hums in curiosity.

“The snow world we went to,” he says.

“That’s a happy memory?”

If this were any other circumstance, she’d comment on how he supposedly didn’t have a heart back then either. Right now, though, she’s just glad he’s responding. He opens his eyes again, and they’re still so hazy it hurts to look at.

“You looked happy,” he says.

A smile, though sad, reaches her face. She knows he’s aware that’s not what she meant, but…

_You looked happy too._

Though he might not realize it himself.

His fingers start to curl around her hand, so subtly it might very well be involuntary. But she takes it as a good sign, and keeps going.

“What else?” She asks.

Though his gaze is still unfocused, his eyes shift while he thinks.

“Watching the sunset with you for the first time.”

Despite everything, the fact that the memories he brings up involve her warms her chest.

“It was pretty, right?”

“Yes, and…” the hand that had been resting on his lap for the past few minutes is raised to the height of his stomach, reaching for his chest before he lets it fall again, “Something was different about it.”

“In a good way, I hope.”

“Of course.”

“What else?”

His eyelids close, and it almost looks like he’s fallen asleep for the few seconds it takes him to open them again. Still, his eyes look brighter than they did a few minutes ago, and it actually appears that he’s _looking at_ the floor instead of fixating at a random point in front of him.

“Tell me one of your own,” he says.

Her eyes widen.

“Um…”

She thinks of speaking about the time Axel got embarrassed at her calling him sweet, but is hesitant to bring him up now. Then she considers telling him about how she woke up with a mess of seashells next to her pillow, given to her by Roxas while she was unconscious, or about how Roxas grabbed a stick once he lent her his Keyblade. But in the end, she’s afraid to bring him up too, and dig up bad memories for Saïx. So she settles with a more recent one.

“Embarrassing you in front of Riku was fun,” she says.

A tired, quiet, but fond chuckle leaves him, and the ghost of a smile forms on his face.

“For you, I’m sure.”

She finally feels his hand return her grasp, though weakly.

“You’re easy to make fun of.”

His head is raised slightly more, no longer hanging down without a hint of life. He blinks a few times, and she watches his irises move intently. He glances down, at his palm, then looks at his other hand under Xion’s and his eyes widen in slight surprise. She watches his face as she feels his hand stiffen, then relax again and squeeze back at hers as he turns his head away. The embarrassment is comforting for her, as it means he’s aware enough to feel it. And as always, it’s just a bit amusing. The fond look on her face doesn’t last long, however. It fades when he closes his eyes in exhaustion.

“Did Xemnas and the others do this to you?” She asks, voice small.

Now that he’s more aware, it appears his usual stubbornness is starting to creep back in. He opens his eyes again and looks down in thought. After some time, however, he nods. Her chest twists at the answer, with both rage and sadness. She doesn’t understand how they could be so selfish and cruel, how they could inflict this kind of hurt on someone who has been loyal for so long. Xion bites down at her cheek.

“How long until… we fight against Lea?”

Saïx is quiet while he thinks, processing the question. His hand twitches in anxiety.

“A few more days,” he says, almost whispers. “The clash between Sora and his friends against the Organization will be soon.”

A few more days, for her, is not soon enough.

“Do we have to wait that long?”

It takes him a second before he turns to her, and gives her a questioning frown.

“You don’t seem to be getting any better,” she says.

“I’m… fine?”

_Clearly not._

“But you could be better, and away from them.”

His tired eyes turn to the floor.

“What are you suggesting?”

“Can’t we just… leave, now?”

The quiet sigh that leaves him, followed by his silence, hurts her chest. She knows what the answer will be, but she can’t help but hope there’s some way to get him away from them. Watching her friends get hurt over and over by the people they work for, and watching Xemnas continue to get away with it, it’s all exhausting in a way she can’t quite describe.

“They’d find us again, and even if they didn’t,” he says, “Roxas needs a body, Vexen needs the lab to make one, and I need to be here in case something goes wrong.”

“But…” Her voice drifts away, and she squeezes at his hand.

Not once did he say he doesn’t want to leave sooner. He only gave her reasons why he can’t. It’s frustrating, unfair, it gnaws at her chest.

“I wouldn’t know how to track Lea down myself, either,” he says, “So I wouldn’t know where to bring you to meet up with him.”

Silence creeps in, and she taps her fingers on the ground next to her.

“Don’t you want to meet up with him too?”

“That’s not how forgiveness works.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

His grip tightens, and his frown gets worse.

“I do.”

The admission almost looks like it saps energy out of him. It came so low, she barely heard it in the first place. She lets her head rest on his shoulder, and he doesn’t react much.

“I think it’s okay to hope that happens,” she says.

“It does little to change how things will end up.”

“But you want him to forgive you, right?”

“I was horrible to him for years. I don’t think–”

“That’s not what I asked.”

She feels the nervousness through his hesitant grasp.

“The answer,” he says, pauses to breathe in and out, then continues, “is yes. But it doesn’t change anything.”

“Well, I think…” she starts, and then takes a second to form the words in her mind. His fingers shift on top of her hand, anxiously waiting for her to continue. “I think that if he loved you before, he still does now.”

His head turns away, but he says nothing.

“He doesn’t really let go,” she says. A rare memory comes to her while she speaks. She remembers her last encounter with Axel, and with the images comes a lot of hurt swelling in her chest. Finally she can recall asking him not to hold back, and him shouting, screaming at her, begging her to stop trying to die. He made her a promise back then. That he’d always be there to bring her and Roxas back. “He didn’t want to let me go.”

“You’re you, Xion.”

“He yelled at me, asking me not to disappear. He was… mad. I was abandoning him and Roxas, I knew it would hurt them both even if it was for the best, and he still…” Her voice drifts away, and Saïx has nothing to offer. “I think he still cares about you. As long as you still care about him, I think it’ll be fine.”

“Our situations are very different,” he says, quiet, “He has plenty of reasons to hate me, all of which are justified.”

“I don’t think he ever hated you,” she says. “He missed you.”

He finally turns to her, a slight frown on his face.

“How would you know?”

She swallows some nervousness, and fidgets her fingers for a little while before speaking up.

“I read a part of his diary.”

She can feel Saïx freeze in confusion next to her, and seconds that feel like a millennia pass before he can even think of what to say.

“You _what?”_

“It wasn’t on purpose!” She rushes to add, turning to him with mild desperation and embarrassment, “I thought it was another random collection of documents or something, it’s not my fault they kept it stashed with the normal reports.”

He raises an eyebrow, and the corner of his lips twitch upwards.

“You stole his diary?”

“Accidentally.”

“And you read it.”

“Accidentally!”

A quiet laugh leaves him, though it does little to help with her exasperation. He observes her with amusement, and says nothing else. Xion then desperately takes control of the conversation again.

“It was just a small passage,” she says, and clears her throat, “But he said he missed you.”

The smile softens, and he looks away, but it doesn’t vanish completely. Saïx retreats to his thoughts, letting the quiet settle in again, and she takes that silence as an opportunity to observe him. The fondness on his face, though sad, is enough to tell her he cares for Lea deeply. Though she might not know the details of what happened between them, she knows Saïx would do anything to be forgiven, and she also knows Axel would have liked to forgive him back then. Maybe now that Saïx is actively working towards it, they could both get what they wanted. Personally, she’d love to see Saïx smile more, and she’d love to be able to be friends with both of them, and hang out together.

A little sigh leaves her.

“Please don’t tell him I read it, though.”

His silence is broken by a short chuckle.

“I won’t.”

They spend the rest of the day resting and gazing at the sky above.


	11. XI. At dusk, I will think of you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sun sets in Twilight Town.

When the sun starts setting, the winds that had been plaguing the wasteland all day vanish, almost as if they had respect for the view. The sky is clear of sand, the surroundings are quiet, and Xion stares at the view hypnotized. She never did let go of his hand, and he definitely doesn’t have the courage to take it back himself. It’s soothing, just like Xion herself is. It’s also foreign, but not in a bad way.

After an eternity, she turns her head away from the view, her gaze dropping to the floor. She squeezes at his hand, and he waits for her to speak.

“Can… I go to the clock tower?”

A small frown is on her face, one that gnaws at his chest. It screams melancholy, nostalgia, even through how subtle it is. Her eyes move to the side while she gathers her thoughts, before she looks at him.

“The one in Twilight Town, I mean,” she clarifies.

He scans her face, and sees nothing but desperation. Her grip on him is tighter, more hesitant, and her blue eyes hurt him with how much they say. It’s all so human, in a way he could never achieve. He squeezes back at her hand, and averts his eyes to the side for a few seconds while he thinks.

Were Twilight Town just another one of the worlds where the Organization was acting in, Saïx would request that they be put in charge of it so she could get her way. But it isn’t, the place is restricted to the likes of Ansem and Xemnas at best, and asking to be assigned to it is a surefire way to incite suspicion.

“I don’t know if that’s possible,” he says.

The inaudible disappointment she expresses punches him in the chest. The small hand shifts on top of his palm, curling up in sorrow, and the guilt that hits Saïx is strong enough that it feels real. And, for once, this isn’t even his fault. But seeing her deflate so quickly, it’s enough to make his brain _think_ he’s done something awful.

“I figured,” she says.

With his free hand, he taps his fingers on the ground. Maybe there is a way. It feels so cruel to deny her something so simple. Saïx narrows his eyes, fixating on one of the clouds further away from the sun. Biting down on his cheek, he thinks.

_If we finish the mission early…_

He turns his head back to her, and feels hurt twist inside him when he sees her so downcast, not even looking at the sky anymore. He gives her hand a gentle press, and she looks up at him, trying to mask the disappointment that’s emanating from her entire being.

“We can try to finish the mission quicker tomorrow,” he says. She blinks in both confusion and interest, so he continues. “Then we can go to Twilight Town.”

The smile that reaches her face after a few excruciating seconds of delay is enough to lift the weight off his shoulders.

“Really?”

“If we’re quick enough.”

She gives him a joyful nod, and the rest of the sunset is enjoyed without anything dragging her mood down.

 

He wakes up early as usual the next day, but he doesn’t spend much time staring at the outside alone before Ansem enters the room. Saïx, sensing his presence, turns to him and keeps quiet.

“Good, you’re up,” says Ansem. Saïx narrows his eyes, and he continues. “Xemnas and I have things to discuss with you."

His stomach turns, though at what exactly he’s not sure. Memories of dread bubble up, but he brushes them aside and gives the man a nod.

The only sound present in their walk to the office is the echo of their footsteps 

 

They arrive, and Xemnas is sat down on the same seat as the last time, going over a few papers. He gives Saïx a long glance, before getting up.

“Good morning, Saïx.”

Saïx only gives him a nod as a greeting. Ansem walks to Xemnas’ side, and crosses his arms. It appears he’s content with taking the backseat in the exchange once again. Saïx can’t help but scan them both, the aura in the room is suspiciously calm. Xemnas takes a few steps towards him, and analyzes him with his golden eyes. Saïx does his best to hide the fact that his throat closes up when he sees him move.

“How have things been developing with Xion?” Xemnas asks. His cold gaze is almost enough to make Saïx hesitate. But not quite.

“Everything is going as planned,” he says, muffling his mind’s alarm bells.

“Has it shown any signs of a developing identity?”

Saïx swallows.

“No.”

Xemnas furrows his eyebrows. Saïx shows no reaction other than a noncommittal eyebrow raise.

“What are your thoughts on it?”

Saïx’s eyes narrow.

“I’m not sure what the point of the question is.”

“I am just curious.”

Saïx turns away and his frown worsens in thought. His jaw clenches.

_What is he looking for?_

“She’s efficient in combat,” he says, “Fast to take out the heartless. Follows orders without a second thought.”

The last remark is almost comical to him, with how inaccurate it is. Regardless, it’s the answer he thinks Xemnas wants, so he’s more than willing to give it to him. A satisfied smile reaches the other man, and while Saïx thinks it’s due to Xion’s supposed success, the low chuckle that comes after sends a shiver down his spine. He sees Ansem narrow his eyes, and let out a wry and quiet laugh himself.

He runs over what he just said in his head, over and over, trying to figure out what he’s done. When he realizes it, his mistake that really is just the truth he used to deny, his chest tightens with anxiety.

_I slipped up again._

Though he does his best not to express it, his realization comes with widened eyes. Xemnas analyzes him for minutes that, in reality, must have only been a couple of seconds. He takes a step forward, raises his hand, and Saïx’s instinct is to take a step back, though he suppresses it. He watches his hand move intently, and relief washes over him when Xemnas only gestures towards him.

“Tell me, Saïx,” Xemnas says, watching his every move. “Do you know why some crimes go unpunished?”

Saïx, though he wishes he didn’t, raises his head at the inquiry. He keeps his mouth sewed shut, not trusting himself not to say anything incriminating, and keeps his eyes fixated on the man in front of him. Xemnas appears to realize he won’t get a reply, and simply continues, the same hollow and cruelly satisfied look on his face.

“Some are useful due to what they bring out in others,” he says. “True intentions, if you may.”

Xemnas takes a step towards him, and he doesn’t have the will not to take a step back in return. Ansem watches it all with a careful eye, an interested frown on his face.

“Thus, they are far more useful unharmed than not,” he says, and Saïx swallows fear. Not for his safety, but someone else’s. Ansem eyes him head to toe, while Xemnas seems determined to keep him trapped in eye contact. A slight smile comes to him again. “Unless you disagree?”

“No,” Saïx is quick to say.

Another low chuckle comes, and Xemnas takes a step back.

“So I implore you to do your best, lest you be proven wrong.”

Saïx does nothing but nod. Xemnas stays silent himself, scanning him, and Ansem finally speaks up.

“You’re dismissed.”

Saïx wastes to time in making his way back to the meeting area.

 

He’s barely done stepping into the room when he spots Xion. More accurately, she spots him, perks up, and calls his attention to her immediately. She takes a small step towards him, but is quick to stop herself, turning to the people in the room. He looks at them himself, and Xigbar and Luxord appear to be too entertained by whatever game they’re playing to notice his arrival, or Xion’s excitement.

He makes his way to her, next to the glass walls, with quiet footsteps, eyes on the duo on the table to see if any of them intend on greeting him at all. The answer is negative. He gets to his usual spot and finally turns to Xion, who gives him a smile that he’s glad to return.

“I was worried about you! You’re usually here when I wake up,” she whispers.

“Xemnas wanted to talk,” he says, averting his eyes to Xigbar. He narrows his eyes when the man returns eye contact, but says nothing before returning to his game.

“Everything okay?”

Saïx observes Xigbar and Luxord for a few more seconds, before turning to her.

“Empty threats. Nothing else.”

“...Okay, then.” She scans his face, hands behind her fidgeting with each other. “Oh, Xigbar said we’re going to a place called Monstropolis?”

“I know of it,” he says, raising an eyebrow.

“We’re just supposed to clear some heartless so, uh, someone else can take complete control of the place.”

Vanitas, he assumes. He’s heard some chatter from the higher ups that suggest the place is perfect for him. He’s never bothered to ask for clarification. Saïx barely sees the boy, he’s always glued to Xehanort’s side. He gives Xion a silent nod. The excitement creeps back in her face.

“So if we do it fast…” She says.

A smile reaches him.

“Yes.”

When Xemnas eventually sends them on their missions, Xion’s quick to open the portal for them to get going. Saïx ignores Xemnas’ stare, and hurries to enter it.

 

An audible gasp leaves her once they arrive in the building. She practically hops out of the portal, observes the tall ceiling with its glass windows, then the door platforms in front of her, all with awe. Saïx closes the corridors and watches her in content silence.

“It’s so big, and…” Her eyes pause at the yellow canisters on the corner for an uncomfortable amount of time, before she moves on to glance at the giant black screen in the end of the room. “Artificial? We usually go to places with trees.”

“Yes, and it’s all monster made,” he says, and walks towards her.

“Huh?” She turns to him and tilts her head in confusion.

“Monstropolis has monster-like habitants.”

“Oh,” she blinks. “Makes sense.”

She glances at the canisters again, and frowns. He turns to them himself, raising an eyebrow when he sees nothing of notice.

“What are those…?” She asks.

“They hold… screams. It’s how this world used to power itself.”

She winces, and takes a small step back.

“I don’t like the energy they give me.”

“You can… feel them?” He asks, and turns back to her.

“Kind of…?”

He eyes them again. If he concentrates enough, he can sense some darkness emanating from the direction they’re in, but it’s so subtle he would have never noticed it had she not pointed it out.

“... Quite the sponge,” he whispers to himself, but it’s not low enough that she can’t hear it.

“Hm?”

He shakes his head in dismissal.

“Thinking about what Vexen said. You’re sensitive.”

“You can’t feel them?”

“I can, but only barely.”

“Huh.”

She brings a hand to her chin, and looks back at them. He watches her in curious silence, but when she spends too long with the gears turning in her head, he takes it upon himself to snap her back to reality.

“Twilight Town, remember?”

She blinks and her head turns back to him.

“Right! Right, let’s go!”

 

They walk through the facility. Or rather, Xion dashes through the facility and Saïx has to pick up his pace so he doesn’t lose her. She tells him about the areas Xigbar said need clearing, and Saïx guides her through it while barely getting to fight any heartless himself. It’s only then he notices she didn’t even bother bringing her other blade, and perhaps she was right to do so. She makes quick work of the small groups of foes with the claymore, and Saïx takes care of the strays that get away.

“The training paid off,” he says, once he slams the last Shadow onto the ground.

“You think so?” She grins at him, and twirls the claymore like it takes her no effort.

“You’re barely letting me touch them.”

She grins.

“Keep up with me, then! I’m not slowing down.”

She barely gives him time to chuckle at the reply before she takes off to their next destination. He can’t help but let out an exhausted sigh before dashing after her. All with his usual smile. He reaches her when she stops at the door of the last location, and can soon see why she did. There is a higher concentration of enemies inside, with a mix of Shadows and Neo Shadows. He glances at her, and sees her frowning in thought.

A quick sigh leaves her, she steps into the room, and it only takes him a second to notice the extra shining blades on her claymore. His stomach turns, but he doesn’t have to opportunity to say anything before she leaps forward and lands in the middle of the heartless, slamming the claymore into the ground and releasing the circle of energy around her he knows so well.

That alone is enough to take out a considerable amount of enemies. One of the Neo Shadows that were launched back, however, turns itself around before it hits the ground and uses the momentum to propel itself towards her. Saïx grits his teeth and leaps forward himself, managing to knock it away and kill it a millisecond before it reaches her. Xion snaps her head to him, scans him with those shining eyes that hurt so much to look at, and after a moment of hesitation she turns her attention back to the enemies.

He knocks some heartless that leap towards him away, and behind him he can hear that Xion leaps and strikes the ground once again. As he stabs a stray Shadow that got knocked away by her attack and it dissipates, he turns his attention to Xion just when she knocks a couple of Neo Shadows away with a swipe of her blade. They land on the other side of the room, still alive.

Saïx’s eyes dart between them and Xion. She makes eye contact with him, and after a second that feels like a minute, she nods at him and turns her attention to the enemies on her other side. He swallows and leaps towards the heartless that were knocked away, and is quick to bring his claymore to them and strike them both in one attack. Both dissipate when they hit the ground.

A shallow breath leaves him, and it’s not until he begins to turn to her again that he hears some noise behind him. Before he even can fully see the Neo Shadow preparing to leap towards him, a wave of energy slams into it at full force and it dematerializes. Saïx turns to where it stood, and takes a few steps back, watching the dark particles fade. He blinks, and turns to the source of the wave: Xion, on the other side of the room, panting and holding her claymore tightly.

Seconds pass before she lets go of her weapon and it disappears. She closes her eyes, breathing in, and out, and in, and out. Saïx takes a few steps towards her, then those steps turn into leaps when she wavers forward.

Xion manages to put a foot in front of her so she doesn’t fall, but that doesn’t stop Saïx from taking a hold of her shoulders when he reaches her. A quick, exhausted sigh leaves her, she turns her head up to him, and a tired smile is on her face. His frown doesn’t go away, but it lessens at the sight. She gently pushes his hands away from her, and he complies, though not without some hesitation.

“I did it!” She grins.

“You did,” he says. “Don’t… overuse it, though.”

Her grin fades while she observes him. A small smile takes its place after a few seconds, however.

“I won’t.”

A sigh of relief leaves him, and he takes the opportunity to look around the room. No enemies are left. Xion peers on his face next to him when he realizes it, and he knows very well why.

“Twilight Town!” She chirps.

“Twilight Town.”

 

He offers to open the portal out of the corridors right on top of the tower, but she gives him a hesitant request to see the town itself first. So they leave by the market, between two buildings so they don’t risk being seen. He steps out into the shadow, and it takes her a few seconds to follow suit. Saïx observes her; she has her hands hanging low in front of her, holding each other, and she looks at the plain bricks of the buildings next to her with disproportionate curiosity. When she looks ahead at where the market is, she almost freezes in place. Her eyes analyze the few things in view, and he watches it all in silence.

When she looks at him with a hint of fear, he extends his hand towards her. She eyes it with curiosity, and after some hesitation she untangles her fingers from each other and takes hold of it. A quiet sigh leaves her, and when she turns to him again, she gives him a small nod. He returns it with one of his own, and walks to leave the alley they left the corridors in. After taking a second to look around the market and seeing it’s not busy at all, he steps into the warm light of the eternal sunset, and she follows suit behind him, holding his hand tightly.

She pauses when the sun hits her face, shutting her eyes, but when she opens them again, they’re brighter than he’s ever seen them. The rays almost turn her eyes a warm purple, and she takes a long moment to gaze at the view above. After watching her for some time, he turns his head up too. The sun there is somehow the goldest one he’s ever seen, and the red surrounding it is the most beautiful one by far. The light warms his face, and his chest.

“It’s the best sunset, isn’t it…?” She says.

He turns to her, and she looks at him with a fondness that matches the calm of the view above. Even though there’s strong hints of melancholy all over her face, the slight smile she gives him outshines all of it.

_She’s so happy._

“It is,” he answers.

He lets her guide their visit of the town. She pulls him in whatever direction she wants to go, and he follows without any resistance; she hides whenever there are passersby and he doesn’t even have to warn her about them. Her every step is so timid, so anxious, like this is the best dream she’s ever had and she’s terrified of waking up. She squeezes his hand whenever she sees something of interest. And that something can be anything; some flowers that weren’t there last time she visited, a little shop that sells a variety of fruits, and this time, it’s a clothing store.

She tugs on him, like his attention needs to be called to it at all. He looks at it. It’s small, with a variety of styles inside. There’s a lot of plaid, and a lot of red. He stopped caring about fashion trends the moment he started wearing their cloak of a uniform, but at least the current fad seems pleasing to the eye. He glances back at her, and she’s hypnotized by it.

“It wasn’t here last time,” she says, voice so small he can barely hear it.

“Must be a new store, then.”

It feels redundant to say it, but it’s better than just leaving her with silence. She observes the store for a few more seconds, and then lets her gaze fall to the floor.

“I’ve never…” She trails off. A little hum from him is all it takes to push her into continuing. “I’ve never been in one before.”

He doesn’t quite know how to reply. It’s something so mundane to him, just a simple store like any other, but to her it’s so fantastic she can’t help staring at it. Despite being a teenager, regardless of actual age, her life experiences are so… skewed. It tightens his chest to think about. She’s so perceptive to the world around her, she knows how to fight so well, knows more hurt than many people will ever know in their lifetimes, and yet she’s never had the simple experience of buying a shirt she likes. She’s never had any control over what she looks like.

He looks back at the store. Obviously, there are people working there, they can’t risk being seen, but something keeps gnawing at him. He wants to let her get a closer look, but knows doing so is painfully stubborn. He swallows whatever it is that’s making it difficult to breathe, and turns to her again.

“You’ll be able to, soon,” he says. He knows it’s not much, but it’s the best he can offer her.

And despite it being insignificant as a means of comfort, she offers him a smile so bright that it seems impossible. He watches as she looks back at the store for one second more, and returns to walking towards the station, never letting go of him. He offered his hand to her as a way to reassure her, at first, but it’s really become a gift to him too. 

He can see her glancing around the various houses and stores, still, but she doesn't stop to look at any of them anymore. He watches her slow down and stare at the ice cream shop for what feels like an eternity, and yet she never stops walking.

Saïx can’t quite figure out if it’s because nothing else catches enough of her interest to warrant a closer look, if it’s because she knows they’ll soon be pressed for time, or if it’s because she just wants to get to the tower sooner. He says nothing, not wanting to break the experience for her.

They reach the slope that leads to the station plaza, and she stops at its base. Looking up, he’s able to see the top of the tower, though the rest of it is blocked from view by the buildings around them. She stares at the tip of it herself. Her grip on him is tight, and her legs are frozen in place. He watches her for a while, waiting to see if she’s able to overcome the fear herself, but gives her hand a gentle press when she stays still for too long. It snaps her out of it; she looks down, takes a deep breath, and starts walking once again.

With silent, slow footsteps, she walks up the path, and he follows closely behind her. She looks at the floor like she’s terrified to see it when it comes into view. But as they get closer, her pace speeds up, and she looks at the base of the station that’s barely visible. Eventually she picks up to a dash, and he has to enlarge his steps to keep up with her.

However, when she leaves the path, a small gasp leaves her and she stops in her tracks, then takes two quick steps back into the shadow. She even lets go of him in surprise. It’s all sudden enough that he can barely stop himself from bumping into her. She practically walks into him when she retreats from the plaza, however, and he has to hold her by the shoulders to make sure she doesn’t stumble back completely.

“Xion?”

He cranes his neck forward so he can look at her, and she had her hands clasped over her mouth. He can’t be sure in the shadow they’re in, but it looks like her eyes are watering too. His grip on one of her shoulders tightens, and she gives no response, only shutting her eyes and shaking her head. It’s not until after she takes a deep breath that she’s able to speak. She removes the hands from her face and holds them together near her stomach.

“Look,” she says, “but be careful about it.”

His eyebrows furrow when she says it, but he lets go of her and quietly walks around her to do just that. He places his back against the wall just before the entrance to the plaza, and peers around it.

He sees him immediately.

Atop the very same clock tower Xion was so excited to see, is a tall man wearing the same cloaks they are wearing. He’s hunched over, with one of his feet resting on the ledge of the platform, and he’s resting an elbow on that leg’s knee. He has unmistakable red hair, spiky and messy.

“Lea,” the name leaves him involuntarily. It takes him seconds before he remembers to step back into the safety of the hidden pathway. When he does, he spends a moment looking at nothing in particular, trying to process the entire situation. It’s not until he hears something that sounds like a sniffle from behind him that he turns to her with concern. Her hands are clasped together, and while no tears have left her, it’s clear to him they’re in danger of escaping her eyes any second now.

He takes a step towards her, and she tilts her head away from him, hiding her face. Her breathing is unstable, and no words come from her. He places a hand on her shoulder, and waits for her to calm her breathing and look at him before he does anything else. When she does meet his eyes, the melancholy hits him all at once. She looks so happy, so grateful, and yet the saddest he’s ever seen her. No tears have left her.

“It’s him,” she says. A weight seems to leave her when she does. “He’s okay.”

He gives her shoulder a gentle squeeze and looks back at the station. His eyebrows furrowed in thought, his gaze drifts to the ground. Lea is right there. It’s an opportunity so rare it’s almost laughable. He turns back to Xion and she watches him intently.

_She can go with him now._

His jaw clenches at the thought. It’d reunite her with one of her best friends, and it’d put her away from Xemnas. Saïx knows Lea would make sure to keep her safe from him. Besides, he has Sora and his friends on his side. If Xemnas were to go after her, he’d have to get past them. She’d be better off meeting up with him now in every possible way, especially considering the exchange Saïx had with Xemnas early that morning.

He stares at her blue eyes while his mind races.  He knows all of that, in his brain, but his chest twists with pain at the thought. He’d be alone again. It shouldn’t matter, it would just happen a few days in advance than he previously thought. But still, somehow, it hurts. It should make no difference for him, someone with nothing but hollowness inside him, but his memories keep reminding him of hurt so desperate it feels real.

But he shakes his head, and looks at the floor again. What he wants isn’t what matters, and it’s never been. He looks back at her again, and she observes him with caution.

“Xion,” he says, and lets go of her shoulder though he doesn’t want to. “If you go to the tower now, you can–”

“No.”

He snaps his mouth shut and all but winces. He knew the resistance would come, but he didn’t expect it to hurt this much.

“You’re safer with him.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“Xion.”

“I’m _not leaving you,”_ she repeats, hands curling up into fists. The joy from a few moments before is overcast by frustration.

“I understand why you don’t want to,” he says. It’s a lie; he doesn’t, really. “But you’re much safer with him and the people allied with Sora.”

“I’m not going unless you are too,” she says. She’s frowning at him with determined eyes that rip his soul apart.

“I already told you why I can’t.”

“Then I’m not going.”

His throat closes up in frustration, and it shows through on his face. She only narrows her eyes at him, seemingly unaffected.

“Stop being stubborn,” he says, it almost comes as a growl. He gestures towards the plaza with his hand as he speaks. “It’s for the best, it’s–”

“It _isn’t!”_ Her tone matches his. “Don’t _say_ that, I know when things are for the best better than anyone, and this _isn’t!”_

He can’t bring himself to say anything before she speaks up again.

“I’m done losing things,” she says, and takes a step towards him. He takes one back. “I’ll see Lea in a few days. I’ll see Roxas, too. You’ve given me no hint that you plan on ever seeing me again when this is all over.”

That, it twists his stomach. He doesn’t quite have the ability to process all of it, and what it means, fast enough.

“So I’m not going away. I’m staying with you, until I know you’re not vanishing from my life, and,” she pauses to swallow down some frustration, and when she speaks again, her voice is quieter, “until I know you’re safe, away from those people.”

His chest fogs with resemblances of guilt when he hears that. Because he has no real way to promise any of those, as much as he wishes he did. He wants to be able to say she’ll see him again after everything is said and done, that he’ll be able to watch her explore the world and live her life happily, but he can’t. Not when there’s a presence with him wherever he goes, fighting for control of his body; not when he’s not even sure if the most important people in her life will ever forgive him for the horrible things he did.

He wishes with every fiber of his being that he could promise her those things. But he can’t, and lying to her is something he wants to go the rest of his short existence without doing.

“Please,” he says. It comes out pained in a way that shouldn't be possible for him. She looks at him with those wide blue eyes, that precious round face, and it hurts him in a way that should be impossible. “I want you safe.”

A sigh leaves her. The frustration drains from her face until all that’s left is a sad furrow of the eyebrows. She then looks away.

“I’m safe with you,” she says.

He turns his head away from her too.

“You’re not.”

He’s not quite sure what he means, himself. Perhaps he was referring to the organization, maybe he was talking about the danger of participating in the clash between light and dark. Or perhaps he was thinking about how he may not be himself anymore, soon. How the entity that wants his body so badly will have no qualms about hurting her if it gets control of him.

And it will get it. He knows it.

He doesn’t understand why this conversation even has to happen, he cannot even begin to comprehend why Xion would pass up an opportunity to speak with Lea again, just so she can stay with him in the hell she should stop at nothing to escape. He is at such a loss he doesn’t notice her stepping closer, and letting her forehead fall on his shoulder.

His hand goes to the back of her head, and he does his best to reassure her that it will be fine. But he knows he’s horrible at it, he knows he has no grasp on how to even begin approaching it. And he doesn’t know why she would go to him for comfort. He doesn’t know why he can hear her sniffle again, and yet she doesn’t change her mind. He wants to remind her that Lea is there, she can go to him now, there’s absolutely no need to hold back tears. But he knows what she’ll say, and he doesn’t understand it.

His hand brushes awkwardly against her hair, and every second that passes he’s more aware of how much he can’t help her. Not just now, but in any way. He’s unable to even let her go free, because she doesn’t want to leave the cage without him. He’s chained to it, he’s been trapped in it for longer than she’s been alive, and she knows, but she insists.

The girl desperately trying not to cry on his shoulder is a puzzle he’s unable to comprehend, with jigsaw pieces in shapes he’s never seen before. Everything she does is so painfully human, so real, someone like him can never dream to offer any valuable help. And yet she wants to stay near him, thinking he can assist her in any meaningful way.

She shifts so the side of her head is resting on him, instead of her forehead. One last sniffle comes from her, and still no tears have stained her face. He brushes her hair away from her eyes, and rests his hand on her shoulder.

“Saïx,” she calls. He can’t quite stomach looking in her direction when she speaks to him now. But he lets out a low hum, to show he’s listening.

Some seconds pass in silence, and for a moment he thinks she didn’t hear him. Just when the thought crosses his mind, she says it.

“Are you sure you don’t have a heart?”

His hand freezes on her shoulder. He tries to swallow something, an uncomfortable sensation crawling up inside him, and it doesn’t help at all.

“Yes.”

She shifts, slightly turning her head towards him again, and keeps quiet. He feels a little sigh leave her.

“We should head back,” she says, but doesn’t sound too sad. “No clock tower.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she says. “I had fun walking around town… and I got to see him.”

He’s hesitant, but gives it a shot anyway.

“You can still…”

“I’m not going to.”

Saïx sighs in disappointment, but the little head press she gives him calms the knot forming inside his hollow chest.

He doesn’t understand Xion, he doesn’t grasp the reasons why she does the thing she does, but knowing he’ll return to the castle with someone walking next to him in the darkness is more soothing than he’d ever admit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll start having classes again soon and the next chapter is way bigger than it has any right to be (OTL) so stuff might slow down a little!  
> hope you enjoyed the chapter <3


	12. XII. Seven of hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xion gets questions and answers from an untrustworthy source.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. YEAH I GOT SIDETRACKED SORRY im trying to pick this back up again but a variety of things might keep me from updating as fast KJHHKGFKJ sorry.  
> 2\. i havent read/replied to the more recent comments becaaaause i get a little bit nervous but thank u. so much.  
> 3\. alternate summary: xion breaks a spine. it’s a bit of an... unusual chapter? had fun writing it, as different as it may be :p hope you like it!

Walking in the darkness, back from Twilight Town, she can’t help but quicken her pace inside the corridors. Saïx keeps up without a word, but she thinks he’s more than aware of what her concern is. She feels horrible for losing track of time in the town, and only realizing it when it was too late. She won’t voice that, because she knows Saïx will only say she has nothing to be sorry about, so she runs in the darkness and he keeps up in silence.

When they reach the meeting room, her stomach drops when she sees that the sun is almost done setting. The sky is more navy than it is red or gold, and it confirms all of her fears.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“Don’t be.”

She scans the surroundings, afraid she’ll find anyone from Xigbar to Xemnas. They’re alone in the room, at the very least. Only then she turns to Saïx with guilt written all over her face, and he offers a frown of concern.

“Go get some rest,” he says. She opens her mouth to protest, but is surprised by his hand on her head. He ruffles her hair, and she’s helpless to stop him. “I’ll report back.”

“Saïx!” She says, batting his hand away. The pout that reaches her when he stops messing with her hair is pettier than she ever intended, but it softens when she sees his proud, fond face. Just a little puff of the cheeks is left, and the quiet chuckle that comes from him is enough to make her let the air go with a sigh.

“Fine,” she says, defeated.

“Good night.”

A tiny smile creeps into her face despite her best efforts.

“Night.”

 

Reaching the meeting area the next day, she’s relieved to see Saïx standing on his corner. So relieved, in fact, she doesn’t bother looking at the rest of the room before making her way towards him with long steps. But about halfway there, she’s stopped in her tracks by something tugging her back by her hood, with enough force she lets out a gasp of surprise. When she’s freed, she’s quick to spin around to look at the culprit.

“Slow down, Poppet,” says Xigbar. She doesn’t know who else she expected, really. Her eyes narrow at him in irritation before she looks around the room. She sees Marluxia and Luxord sat by the table, cards in their hands, and also sees a hand of cards settled down on the table. She presumes it belongs to the man in front of her. Both of the other players are watching her with curiosity.

“What?” She turns back to him and can’t but shoot him a glare.

“Kinda jumping the gun there, aren’t you?” He says. She raises an eyebrow. “You’re not paired up with Bunnymoon today.”

The frown leaves her in favor of surprise . She feels her chest sink. It's minor, she knows, but she’s gotten used to spending her days with Saïx. Wandering through worlds and spying on random people isn’t nearly as boring as it could be when she’s with him.

“Oh.”

She barely hears footsteps approaching from behind her.

“Pray tell, what are you doing?” Saïx asks. She turns to look at him, and sees he’s directing his question and all of his glare at Xigbar.

“Didn’t you hear what I just said?”

Saïx narrows his eyes.

“I’m referring to your behavior there.”

“Oh, what?”

“Don’t mistreat your coworkers.”

The cackle that leaves Xigbar sends a shiver across her body. She shrinks, take a small step back, and as if on cue Saïx takes one forward to stand next to her. She swallows fear, and watches as Xigbar eyes Saïx with curiosity. He then turns back to her, smile wider, and bends down to peer at her face, hands on his hips.

“Sorry, Poppet,” his voice betrays any sincerity in his words, “did that hurt?”

She can see Saïx’s scowl worsen next to her.

“No,” she says.

He doesn’t straighten his back, but turns his head to Saïx and gestures towards her.

“See?” He says, and smiles. “I would never think about hurting our little friend here.”

“You’d best not, or it would be something to be reported.”

That catches enough of Xigbar’s interest for him to lean back up, crossing his arms and tilting his head upwards as he eyes Saïx with amusement.

“That desperate to save face, are you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Xigbar’s annoying grin only widens, and Saïx’s dispassionate scowl only worsens.

“Just thinking about how hilarious it is that you, of all people, are telling me that.”

Fear closes up around Xion’s lungs, but Saïx seems unaffected.

“Again, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A wry chortle leaves Xigbar.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be, Bunnymoon?” He asks. Saïx gives him a raise of an eyebrow and nothing else. “Didn’t I tell you?”

“As if,” Saïx says, voice flat. Xigbar cackles with disproportionate enthusiasm.

“Sorry, then! You were called to talk with the superior.”

Xion’s head snaps to Saïx, and she sees him narrow his eyes. He glances at the ground, pensive, and she hears a sigh leave him. She looks back at Xigbar, only so notice he’s been watching her reaction. She shoots him a frown, and he receives it with amusement before turning to the other man.

“That’s now, by the way. Don’t keep ‘im waiting.”

An eternity passes where she only watches them both, staring at each other, the gears turning in her brain trying their hardest to come up with a way to bail him out. But she comes up with nothing before Saïx wordlessly turns away from them and starts making his way to the exit.

Xion can’t help but try to run after him before her brain catches up with her actions and makes her stop. She feels Xigbar’s gaze on her back, watching her intently, and she swallows the frustration that’s making her ball her hands into fists. Saïx senses her anyway, and turns to meet her eyes. He says nothing, and she’s too aware of the people in the room to say anything either.

She can see a hint of something in his golden eyes.

_They’re going to hurt you._

She can’t say it, but it almost looks like Saïx hears it anyway. His eyebrows furrow with concern, and she knows it’s not over his own safety. It’s due to the fear plain in her face instead. The knowledge makes everything worse; she wishes Saïx could get his priorities straight for once in his life.

He looks at her eyes, trying to communicate some variation of the same lie, and she wants nothing more to say that no, we won’t be fine, she has a reason to be worried, but the words can’t leave her mouth. And just like that, after one hesitant look, he turns away again and eventually disappears down the hallway. She stares at where he went. Quiet, unmoving, until an unfortunately familiar hand is placed on her shoulder.

“Why the long face?” Asks Xigbar. She turns her head towards him, if only to show she heard what he said. Because she doesn’t grace it with a response. “Poppet?” He pushes, still, and it’s irritating enough that she breaks the silence.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Xigbar chuckles, all knowing as always, and removes his hand from her shoulder. She still looks at the exit that leads to the report room, wanting to rush after him but painfully aware that doing so will help no one. The man behind her waits for her to turn back to face him before he says anything else. She meets his gaze with a scowl.

“Mad about me bullying you or something?”

_Like you’d care._

“What’s my mission?”

“Aw, _are_ you mad?”

She wishes she could get away with assault just about now. Her glare says it all, and thankfully he can see her face, so he gets the full message. She doesn’t feel like saying anything to him until she gets her answer. It seems she’s not the only one irritated by his avoidance, too, because only a few seconds of silence pass before she hears someone at the table clear their throat.

Both of them turn to the source. Marluxia is still quietly watching everything unfold with amusement, but Luxord looks slightly irritated. He gestures towards Xigbar’s usual seat with his head, where his cards are put, and a wry laugh leaves Xigbar.

“Right, my bad!” He says. He starts walking towards the couch, and frustration explodes inside Xion again.

“Answer my–”

“You’ll find out!” He interrupts, waves at her in dismissal, and throws himself on his seat. He picks his cards back up,  reorganizes them in his hand, and does a very good job at pretending he can’t notice Xion glaring daggers into his face.

“Xion,” Luxord says, snapping her attention away from Xigbar. Her frown doesn’t quite leave her face though, and regardless of whether or not Luxord can see it, the wince he gives her is enough to say her scowl transcends any appearances she may take. He pauses, takes a second to choose his words. “Would you like to join us?”

She looks at him, then at the cards on the table, then at Xigbar again, and he’s _still_ ignoring her.

“No.”

“It’s a nice team building exercise,” Marluxia says. “Forgive me for barging in. But I was under the impression it was something your type would enjoy.”

That gets an eyebrow raise out of her. He doesn’t react to it, so she has to voice it. 

“...My type.”

“Am I wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

“Kids your age love that kind of thing, no?” He twirls a card in his hand, toying with it before looking up at her. “That’s been my experience, anyway.”

She eyes him and Luxord. Marluxia appears to be deriving some amusement out of her confusion, much like Xigbar always does, but a lot more subtly. Luxord, on the other hand, appears genuine enough, in a way that puts her on edge. She glances at the door that leads to the hallway again.

“He’s not coming back anytime soon, kiddo.” She looks back at Xigbar. He still doesn’t glance at her, somehow aware that ignoring her presence entirely is more irritating than if he were sending her his signature grin. She looks at Luxord again, and he gestures at the table. And if anything, the fact he doesn’t irradiate immediate malice is what convinces her.

“...I don’t know how to play anything.”

Luxord is delighted at her answer. Marluxia’s thin smile widens, and she swears she hears Xigbar mutter something she can’t quite understand. She focuses back on Luxord and tries (and fails) not to think too much about it. The man is eager to have her attention.

“Not to worry! I can explain!” Luxord gleams. His usual vaguely smug attitude is still there, but for some reason he’s delighted enough that she can put it aside.

So she frowns, ponders, then makes her way to the couch. Marluxia watches her with interest, and Xigbar finally looks up and acknowledges her presence again. Luxord lets her sit to his left, sliding to the side to give her room, and she’s right across from Xigbar. His eyes narrow at her, amused, and he leans back on his seat, throws his current cards on the table, and crosses his arms once he turns to Luxord.

“Since we have four people, why not a truco match?”

“Oh! A good choice, if I say so myself,” Luxord smiles, and with a flick of his wrist the cards on the table are drawn back to his hand. Marluxia lets his own cards go and they fly back to Luxord as well. “Which one of them?”

Xigbar shrugs. “Don’t really care.”

“The simpler variety, please. Spare me from an hour of you explaining it to the rookie there,” Marluxia says, gesturing towards her.

“Very well,” says Luxord.

Luxord is, despite what she might have thought, an excellent teacher. He seems to enjoy himself as he shows her the value order, making his deck float in front of him to assist in his point. For some reason cards 8 through 10 are absent from the game, and for some reason the jack is more valuable than the queen. After the king comes the ace, then two, and for some reason, the most valuable card is 3. Xigbar interrupts when Luxord gets to that part.

“Three is the most powerful card. The Xehanort, if you will,” he says. Luxord seems a bit annoyed at being talked over, but interested enough to see how Xigbar will explain that he keeps quiet. “But in the beginning of each round, we turn an extra card over. The number above that one gets pushed to the top of the hierarchy, above three.”

She frowns. Xigbar leans over the table and snatches one of the cards floating in front of Luxord, who watches it happen with curiosity. He places the card on the table, and she sees it’s an ace of clubs.

“So if we were to turn this card at the beginning of a round, who’s the one stronger than three?”

She narrows her eyes.

“Two.”

“Good, you get it!”

She raises an eyebrow at him, and he looks pleased with himself.

Xigbar then takes it upon himself to explain the rest. Card suits have a power order Xion isn’t sure she’ll remember, and there are a few rules on how the cards are shuffled and who cuts the deck before distributing them. Xigbar is far more abrasive than Luxord, and while she understands most of it, he’s a bit _too_ fast. But Xion would rather do anything else than ask him to repeat himself, so she figures she’ll understand as the game goes. Or she can ask Luxord then. Luxord is nice. She finds her mind is trying to get away from thinking about interacting with the man in front of her in favor of complimenting Luxord’s teaching skills.

It’s not until Xigbar gets to an important detail that she realizes why he seems so eager to play.

“Oh, did I mention it’s a team game?”

Xion blinks. The amusement on his face tells her the realization is plain on hers.

_Please. No._

Luxord leans forward to catch her attention.

“Just as he said! You sit across your teammate, the fun of the game is picking up on cues so you can strategize without the other team knowing,” he says. Xion frowns, and takes a long moment to look around the table and confirm that she is, indeed, sitting across from Xigbar. As if the slow and silent realization wasn’t cruel enough, Luxord spells it out. “Xigbar is your teammate here, for convenience’s sake.”

She raises an eyebrow at her now partner and he gives her the most innocent smile she has ever seen come from him. It only makes her glare get worse.

“Do your best, Poppet,” he says.

Xion considers self-sabotage.

 

The rounds go as well as she expected. Between being up against Luxord, the one obsessed with games, and Marluxia, someone she barely knows and can still tell cannot be trusted with anything that requires honesty, and being paired with Xigbar, whose entire personality is being as cryptic and mean spirited as possible until someone breaks, it could be said that Xion is at a disadvantage. They somehow manage to win a few points, however, thanks to sheer luck.

She can tell when Xigbar attempts to give her hints of his hand. But she chooses to let those hints fly over her head. He doesn’t seem to mind that, either, so she’s happy to let Luxord destroy them as she pretends she didn’t notice when Xigbar spoke of Vexen and then unsubtly threw a four of clubs on the table.

She sinks on her seat whenever someone else arrives in the room. Her and Riku lock eyes more than a few times, and every time he looks just a tiny bit more sad for her. But whenever she decides that she’s had enough, she’s putting an end to this, Xigbar appears to read her thoughts and addresses her in conversation. Then it becomes a matter of pride, because he’s _waiting_ for her to run away, she knows, and she doesn’t want to prove him right.

The strongest card in this round is seven. She looks at her hand, and sees a seven of hearts, among with an ace of clubs and a four of hearts. She stares at her cards, and her eyebrows furrow when she thinks of Saïx. He’s still nowhere to be seen. Worse still, neither Demyx or Vexen are present, she assumes Vexen is by his lab. She saw him walking by earlier, eyeing the room in search of someone and leaving when he didn't find whoever he needed. She guesses he was looking for Demyx. He'd probably ask her if he was searching for Saïx.

Just as she watches Marluxia place his card, a six of spades, Riku wanders over behind her in the couch and places his arms on top of it. She places the ace of clubs on the table before acknowledging him. Luxord is quick to follow with a two of clubs.

"Hi," she half whispers.

"Why are you doing this?"

Her eyes drift up to Xigbar again, just as he tosses a three of hearts on the table. It wins the round, and Luxord leans over the table to put the played cards away. A sigh leaves her that is reminiscent of a groan.

"I don't know," she says.

"Did he make you?"

"I was... convinced."

She doesn't get to hear a reply from Riku before her dear teammate speaks up.

"Repliku, what are you up to?"

"None of your business," Riku says. She can feel the anger emanating from him shoot up to the skies the moment he is addressed. Xigbar tosses an ace of spades on the table before replying.

"That's no way to talk to adults," he says. "I'm just asking what you two are chatting about!"

Marluxia places a five of diamonds on the table without a word. She can see his eyes fixate on Riku.

"And I'm saying it's none of your business!"

She puts the four of hearts down.

"Calm down, no need to yell, we’re all friends here, aren’t we?" Says Xigbar.

"Give it up, he's a lost cause," Marluxia says, and she turns her frown to him. "I would know."

Luxord puts a three of diamonds down. It wins the match.

She feels the frustration coming from him get worse, though she's not sure how much her sensitivity is blowing it out of proportion. Still, he doesn't offer Marluxia any sort of reply. Instead it's Xigbar who speaks again.

"Poppet, could you teach your friend some manners?"

She isn't sure what to say to that, but that is an issue swiftly resolved by Riku's interjection.

"Don't call her that."

The new round starts with a three of spades from Luxord. Looking over at him, it doesn't quite appear he's enjoying the drama, but it also doesn't look like he's willing to do anything to stop it yet. Xigbar raises an eyebrow at Riku and bends down to put a three of clubs, and turns his head up at him.

"Or what?"

"What, are you testing me?"

Marluxia puts a seven of clubs down.

“No fighting at the game table, please,” is all Luxord offers. It does little to soothe Riku’s anger.

“Aw, let the kid talk. He’s got no bite to back up the bark.”

That’s the moment Xion starts getting concerned that Riku might very well jump over the couch at any moment to prove him wrong. She doesn’t know what Xigbar is thinking, considering the Riku she fought back then was more than capable of putting up a good fight. While this Riku looks a bit younger, she’s sure he would still be powerful. And he seems far more willing to use that power to prove a point.

And it’s not that she’s opposed to watching Xigbar lose in a fight. It’s more that she doesn’t want to deal with the aftermath. Just as she’s about to settle her remaining card on the table, Riku’s voice interrupts all of her thought processes with its sheer volume.

“Is that what you think?!”

“Why are you so heated over a little nickname?” Xigbar, contrasted with the boy that’s about halfway into jumping over the couch, leans back and rests his foot on the edge of the table. “It’s all in good fun. A little joke.”

“It’s only a joke if it’s _funny.”_

“Don’t you think it is?”

She clenches her jaw.

“No, and I don’t think she thinks so either!”

Just about it looks like Luxord is about to say something in an attempt to prevent a fight, all eyes turn to the door as Ansem enters the room. Her stomach turns when she sees him. Even Riku goes quiet when he arrives. He eyes the room, arms crossed.

“Get to work,” he says.

She would wonder where Xemnas is, but she knows. She knows even though she wishes she didn’t. She looks behind her, towards where Saïx had gone earlier. Riku watches her do so with confusion, but keeps quiet. His head snaps back forwards when something catches his attention, but it’s not until she’s pulled out of her seat by her hood that she fully processes what it was.

“Hey!” Riku practically growls.

“Well,” Xigbar lets go of her hood once she’s standing up again, still holding the card on her hands in confusion, and then gives her a pat on the back. “If she doesn’t like it, she can let me know today.”

“Huh?” She can’t help but let out.

“It’s training day for you and you get to have uncle Xigbar here as your teacher!”

She locks eyes with Riku and she feels his solidarity inside her very soul. The hand that pat her back settles on her shoulder once again, and she doesn’t look at it. Or him at all. Maybe if she doesn’t look at him it won’t be real.

She feels someone looking at her from her left, and she turns to him instead of the man next to her. It’s Luxord, looking at her with something that resembles pity. It takes her a moment to look at the card in her hands and realize what he wants. Her eyes lock on the seven of hearts for longer than necessary, before she lets it go and it returns to Luxord.

“Let’s get going, Poppet?”

She doesn’t answer, but she follows him when he opens the portal anyway, after one long silent exchange with Riku.

 

She keeps her distance from him in the dark corridors. Somehow he never has any doubt in his mind about whether or not she will follow him, and she’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

“So, Poppet!” He starts, and doesn’t even turn to her so he can see her glare at him. “Tell me, what did you and Saïx do the other times?”

“Train.”

“Come on, gimme more than that!”

He spins on his heel so he can look at her, walking backwards. She raises an eyebrow at him, intending to keep silent for as long as she’s able. Unfortunately for Xion, he stops in his tracks, and so does she. They share a long stare, in which she thinks he’s holding back a grin, and she breaks.

“He taught me how to block first, then counter attack.”

He tilts his head to the side. “That’s all? Really? Have you been slacking?”

“And we had a match or two. If you care so much to ask.”

He chuckles at her annoyance. He turns back to look ahead of him and continues walking, and she takes the opportunity to roll her eyes.

“Well, make that a match or three!”

 

She wasn’t quite sure where they were headed, but she felt no surprise when they existed in the wasteland. They aren’t where she and Saïx usually go to, but somewhere else in the same general environment. It appears the winds are getting worse as each day passes, and while she flinches at them, Xigbar almost seems to enjoy the weather. A moment passes where he gazes up at the sky, far quieter than usual, and she swears she sees his smile widen in an unusually calm manner. What for, she has no idea, she sees nothing in front of her other than the wasteland and the dust in the wind.

A strong gust of wind hits them, and he then takes many steps forward. She doesn’t bother following, busy shielding her eyes from the sand. It’s not until she hears a click and a sharp noise that her hand snaps in front of her and summons the Lunatic. She feels something bounce off the metal. 

She takes a millisecond to process it all. Ahead of her is Xigbar, arrowguns in hand, one of them pointed right at her. He looks amused.

“Ohh, _that’s_ new.” His gaze moves from her eyes to the claymore in her hand. “Was wondering why I hadn’t seen your sword recently.” 

“What was that for?”

“Just reminding you to stay sharp,” he says, and after one particularly smug grin he jumps up into the air, doing a (unnecessary, in Xion’s opinion) flip and settling on his signature upside down stance. “Feel like Saïx’s been going easy on you.”

He gives her no time to reply before he points both of the arrowguns towards her and fires a string of shots. She decides to dodge instead of blocking due to the sheer amount of bullets headed her way, and has to continue running past her dodge roll once she notices they’re homing towards her. It’s hard to outspeed them, she has to stop and take a sharp breath once they finally miss her for good and hit the floor. She turns to him, sees the Sharpshooter still pointed towards her, and decides she’s going to need a little extra speed if she’s going to reach him.

So she lets the built up frustration from dealing with him all morning knock her into the berserk state. She grips her claymore and dashes forward, and hears a laugh come from him once he realizes what she’s done. It only helps fuel the fire. When she’s about halfway the way there, a large blue arrow is shot her way in a straight line. Xion manages to jump over it to avoid the impact in the nick of time, but it bounces off the floor and hits her right foot on its way up. A sharp breath leaves her through gritted teeth at the pain, and she slams onto the floor. She lands on top of her arm.

“What, out of shape?”

She turns her head up just as she hears a cackle come from him. The shine in her eyes intensifies, and though her ankle screams in pain when she does, she pushes herself back up. As she does, he points the Sharpshooter to the sky, and what looks like hundreds of blue bullets are shot into the air and fall towards her at an alarming speed.

“Thought the Keyblade was too boring for you?” He taunts as she dashes away from the rain of bullets pouring down from above her.

“I can’t _summon_ my Keyblade!” She yells, braking once she gets out of the range of the projectiles and swinging the claymore in an arch in front of her, shooting a wave of energy towards Xigbar. She sees his smile widen before he teleports away.

It takes her no time to turn her head up and notice him just above her, and the arrowguns fused together inches above her face. A wry smile reaches him before he fires, and in a miracle Xion’s body moves on its own guided by instinct and dodges the shot by an inch. The moment she hears a chuckle leave him is when she decides to jab the claymore into the ground, pull herself up by its handle, push the claymore away with her foot to propel herself diagonally upwards, and flip her body so the tip of her foot connects with his back with a loud snap of a kick.

The grunt that leaves him when the kick hits his spine is more cathartic than she’d ever admit. He falls back to the floor and hits it with a loud thud and another noise of complaint. His arrowguns fall next to him. She lands back down herself, next to her claymore, careful not to put her weight on her injured ankle. She pulls Lunatic off the ground and walks over to Xigbar, who is too busy groaning something about the state of his back to notice her approaching. It’s not until she points the claymore at him that he sees her.

“Whoa, whoa, back off!” He says, pushing himself away from her and raising his hands in front of him.

“Sorry, are you giving up?” She says, glowing eyes narrowing. She can feel the berserker energy start to leave her, but she’s more than willing to keep going if he insists.

“Yeah, sure, whatever!”

She lets the weapon vanish without a word, closes her eyes and lets herself slip out of the berserker state. An exhausted sigh leaves her, but she has no intention of sitting down anywhere near him, so she settles with crossing her arms and sending him her best frown. It takes him a moment of whining on the floor before he can sit up, rubbing his back. He shoots her a rare frown.

“Way to mistreat your coworker, Poppet.”

“You should have seen it coming. It’s not the first time it’s happened.”

“Hah!” A wry laugh leaves him and he pushes himself off the floor, grabbing both of his weapons with one hand, while the other is still on the place where she kicked him. Despite the laugh, he doesn’t look happy or even amused. Which she appreciates. “What, you remember now?”

He sounds more bitter than anything else.

_Good._

“‘Knocking you on your butt’? Yeah.”

The memory came to her the moment the kick connected with his back, like divine reward for punishing for his misdeeds. He crosses his arms, looks down at her with displeasure, and she stares up with double the frown. He rolls his eye, and sighs.

“Whatever. Gotta say, though,” a hand moves to his hip, and the other gestures at her general direction with his weapons, “creative use of Bunnymoon’s claymore.”

She raises an eyebrow, and he moves an arrowgun so he has one in each hand.

“Thanks?”

“Since when do you have that?”

“Does it matter?”

Finally, his default smirk comes back to him.

“Touché, guess it doesn’t. I suppose you don’t need your Keyblade at all, then!”

It’s a sour spot, and he knows it. She scowls at him, and he watches her reaction with delight. She’s well aware he’s fishing for a reply, and as much as she doesn’t want to give him one, she’s often found that he’s willing to give her answers if he’s in the right mood. She has no clue why Xigbar would know anything about her Keyblade that Saïx doesn't, but it’s worth a shot. If all goes wrong, she can try to fracture his shins next.

“I do, actually,” she says, and sees his smile widen in response. “Do you know how I can get it back?”

“It’s less of a ‘getting it back’ deal and more of a ‘convincing it to return’ thing.”

She raises an eyebrow and blinks at such a straightforward reply. He watches it with amusement.

“What do you mean?”

“Those things kinda have a mind of their own, didn’t you know?”

She frowns and looks away. She’s thought about it before; it’s one of the plausible explanations for her Keyblade up and vanishing back then, only to return when she really needed it. But still, she’s not quite sure how she would go about ‘convincing it to come back’. It’s not like it’s a person she can speak to, is it?

“I guess. But how would I even… convince it?”

“Well, why do you want it back?” He asks. She spends some time processing the question and thinking of a reply before she turns back to him with a confused frown.

“Why wouldn’t I want it back?”

“You can’t even convince _me_ that you deserve it back with an answer like that,” he says. She tilts her head. “It’s not gonna come back to you if you just ‘ _want it’_.”

An unsettling feeling grows inside her as she receives answers that are, all things considered, far too objective for Xigbar. She doesn’t want to press him on his reasons, it would distract from the conversation she’s actually interested in, but she can’t help but be suspicious of how much she can actually trust what she’s being told.

“But!” He interrupts her thoughts, waving his arms in a shrug. “Since yours was copied in the first place, maybe it’s just realized you’re not worth your salt, or it got wiped along with your existence back then.”

“How would I convince it?” She says, swallowing all of her annoyance, knowing it’s not worth to reply to any of what he just said.

“It’s all about what’s in your heart! Or non heart, whatever.”

She raises an eyebrow at him.

“Like what?”

“I dunno, what are you planning to do with it?”

She frowns. She can’t tell him any of the things she would like to do, as all of them involve going against the organization in some way. Though she knows he’s more than aware of her distaste towards the place around them, she’s not about to give him that for free. So she decides to be vague.

“Help those I care about.”

He knows who she means.

“But how would it help at all? That just sounds like an excuse.”

She doesn’t exactly have a reply to that. The thing she wants to help Saïx with, whatever makes him so sick he can’t feel his own skin, isn’t something she thinks she can fight with her Keyblade. She can’t help but let her frustration show on her face as she looks away and lets out a rather disappointed sigh.

“Oh, don’t feel down! You still have Saïx’s weapon to make up for it,” he says. It comes out far too sarcastic to give her any reassurance. Turning to him and seeing an interested, but not quite sympathetic look on his face only confirms to her that he’s not focused on making her feel any better. She tries to push her mind away from the Keyblade subject entirely, and her chest hurts when the only other thing she can think of is Saïx.

“Where’s Saïx?”

“You know where. Talking to the superior.”

“Is it really just ‘talking’?” She asks. He tilts his head in interest, “Is he hurting him?”

“What makes you ask that?”

She clenches her jaw at the answer, feeling a frustrated bubble pop inside her.

“He keeps feeling sick,” she says, and looks away. She frowns in thought. Avoiding outright saying that Saïx told her some of the things he goes through is of importance to her; she doesn’t want Xigbar to snitch on him when things are already so bad. “It looks like he loses communication with his own body.”

“And why would that be?”

Xigbar coaxing her into figuring it out herself is stressful, because the answers aren’t things she wants to hear. It hurts less to be outright told than it does piecing things together to find out how bad the full picture truly is. But she knows Xigbar isn’t one for easy answers, and she doesn’t want to waste the opportunity.

So she thinks. She remembers Saïx said things she couldn’t quite understand last time she saw him go through one of his incidents. He mentioned that Xehanort was in need of vessels when she asked what was happening to him. Finding a connection between these two things is difficult for her, the only answer she can think of is so absurd she can’t convince herself of it. But it’s the only thing that makes sense.

“Is…” she swallows the anxiety crawling up her throat. “Is Xehanort planning to use him as some sort of… shell?”

He raises an amused eyebrow at her.

“Kiddo, did no one catch you up to speed regarding what this Organization is all about?”

She wishes someone did. She’s pieced a few things she’s heard in conversation and seen together, like that a person named Xehanort is the one in charge of everything, that Ansem is somehow connected to Xemnas, but it was all her doing and her doing alone.

“It’s not… the same as before?” She frowns. “Completing Kingdom Hearts to get hearts of our own…?”

Not that she believed these people were even half as lacking in heart as Xemnas claimed. You need a heart to feel embarrassment, joy and grief. You certainly need a heart to derive enjoyment out of confusing and frustrating people until they break, as Xigbar seems to.

“Thought Saïx would tell you. This Organization’s whole purpose is gathering vessels for Xehanort to use to clash against the light.”

Her stomach turns at the answer, and her hands drift to each other in nervousness. So she’s right, the reason Saïx can’t feel his body sometimes is because there’s someone trying to rip it away from him. Being right, in this instance, is her worst nightmare. Because she has no clue how she would even begin to help him with that. She has no experience with something like this, she doesn’t know how to help someone who’s being _possessed._

Xigbar watches as the realization is written plain on her face. Her eyes focus at nowhere in particular as her thoughts race. What can she do for Saïx, then? Is there really nothing she’s able to help him with, other than watching and trying to comfort him while he struggles to stay conscious?

She looks back up at Xigbar, and he’s waiting for her to voice any of what’s in her head. She struggles to understand why he’s so calm about giving her this kind of information; he knows it does the Organization’s no favors in her eyes. And yet, there he is, expressing no hint of regret with his cursed permanent grin on his face. She speaks up, not because she wants to acknowledge it herself, but because the silence is unbearable.

“Was Saïx called to… continue to make him a vessel, then?”

“That’s my guess.”

She frowns and averts her eyes again. Xemnas probably saw no reason to tell Xigbar, she believes that much. She’s unfortunately been believing a lot of things he’s been telling her lately, and continues to be surprised when those things turn out to be true. That she has to turn to him for honest answers, it sickens her in a way she can’t quite describe.

She looks back at him, and there’s a small smile on his face. It’s strange. He doesn’t hate her, she knows, she’s not sure if Xigbar really hates anyone. But he’s not a friend. He helps her, pretends to act like one, but she knows he sees her as nothing more than another person to be toyed with for his own entertainment. But that’s another point of contention, if she stops to think about it: she’s a person to him, not a machine. Or, at the very least, she is a machine that he finds as fun to toy with as regular people. He doesn't show any difference on the way he treats her compared to anyone else as far as she can tell, nickname aside.

And for some reason, she’s a person he trusts enough not to babble about the countless things he tells her to someone else. Maybe it’s because he’s aware that she despises Xemnas more than anyone else, or maybe it’s because he’s under the impression that she’s afraid of him. But she’s not, really. What she feels isn’t fear, it’s outright confusion. She doesn’t _get_ Xigbar. It’s not something she’s used to dealing with; reading people and understanding their emotions is something that comes easily to her most of the time. And, even more baffling, Xigbar seems to get her. Enough that he can read most of her thoughts with ease.

“Who are you, really?” She asks.

That surprises him. But he smiles again. He always looks like he’s having so much fun, like things don’t really matter. She cannot begin to comprehend how it feels to live like that.

“What kind of question is _that_?”

“Why are you… here?”

He eyes her, with his golden iris. The same gold of Xemnas, of Ansem, of Saïx. And yet he’s so carefree, when Saïx is so miserable. He looks interested, perhaps the most disharmed she’s ever seen him. After a moment of observing her, he replies.

“I got something I need to take back.”

“Was it stolen…?”

He rotates his shoulder, stretching it.

“Long story.”

She narrows her eyes, and he raises an eyebrow at her. He appears intrigued enough to answer more.

“How are you so....” Her voice drifts away when she realizes she doesn’t know how to word it. Quiet settles in for a few seconds, before he leans towards her the smallest amount, letting out a questioning hum. “...Happy? I don’t know.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” His smile widens. She’s glad he skips the heartless lie, and got to the point. It’s a rare mercy coming from him.

“Aren’t you worried you won’t get the thing you want back?”

His eyes narrow in interest, and he brings one of his arrowguns over his shoulder, toying with it for a moment.

“Nah.”

She frowns, and her hands fidget with each other.

“How?”

“I know I’ll get it.”

She clenches her jaw. There’s not a drop of doubt in his voice. It’s almost superhuman, he makes it sound like nothing will ever even dare to get in his way. She envies it, really. It's been a while since she's ever felt that sure of anything.

“Are you okay with, um…” Again, she struggles to say it. He tilts his head upwards, waiting for her to continue, uncharacteristically patient. “The whole,” she swallows, thinking of her friend, “possession thing.”

“If it’s what it takes to get what I need.”

“But what if you’re not even you anymore, in the end?”

“As if.”

Again, so certain, so laid back. She’s not sure that amount of self confidence is even possible, especially for someone who seems to keep everyone at a distance. She has no way to conceptualize it. Her strength comes from her bonds, her friends. From Roxas, Axel, Naminé, Riku, and Saïx. Xigbar’s? She has no way of knowing.

“How are you so sure?” She asks.

He smiles.

“Secret.”

_So there is a reason._

Though it’s not one she thinks she’ll get to hear anytime soon, if ever. As curious as she is, it doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, at least not to her. So she lets her attention drift to the other big question in her mind, one that has far more relevance to her current problems.

“Why are you so healthy when Saïx keeps collapsing?”

“He struggled too much,” he says, and her stomach turns at his tone. No hint of sympathy. “A  guy like him was always going to end up on the chopping block.”

She can’t prevent the frown that reaches her.

“He was loyal.”

“Yeah, was. That’s why it hadn’t gotten bad ‘til now.”

_Until he started to help me._

She knows Saïx would never want her to feel this way, but she feels guilt wrapping around her. She can’t help but wonder if he wouldn’t be better off not helping her, just letting her go about her days in this Organization alone. Maybe then he wouldn’t have been put under so much suspicion. Xion wishes that she could switch places with him now, somehow, even though he would never want her to. But she has to wonder why she’s so free when he’s so chained because of her.

“Why am I still here?” She asks. Xigbar doesn’t seem to follow, tilts his head to the side and frowns. It’s hard to spell it out, but she won’t hold her breath and wait for him to make an effort to understand. “Why is he getting kicked out of his body, and I’m still okay?”

Xigbar’s expression is neutral while he averts his eye to think, and she sees his fingers tap in thought on one of his weapons.

“My guess would be that they figure you won’t disobey if he’s around.”

And it’s true, unfortunately. She’s afraid of what may happen then. Still, something sounds off about the whole situation.

“But,” she stops, lets the gears turn in her brain, “isn’t it just more convenient to do it anyway?”

“What, just like it’s more convenient to make Vexen produce a bunch of blank replicas and use these instead of using a bunch of different, vaguely possessed Xehanorts?”

A shiver runs down her spine. She keeps quiet.

“Don’t ask me why Xehanort does the things he does,” he says, amused by the subtle terror in her eyes. “I’m not him. Not entirely, anyway.”

The last remark comes with a laugh from him, but it sickens her to the core.

“He just trusts that you’re going to stay loyal when he needs you to.”

The word ‘loyal’ sounds twisted, wrong, in Xigbar’s voice. Because despite his claims that Saïx only started suffering because he betrayed Xehanort’s trust, Xigbar is no better. Speaking to her about these things now, telling her what he thinks, giving her more reasons to want to get away from this place, none of it is loyalty.

“Why do you answer my questions?”

“Fun?” He says, and removes the arrowgun from his shoulder to let it twirl on his fingers. “All you kids close to Sora tend to be different. You, in particular, are very weird.”

“...Huh?”

“Come on, Poppet,” he says, using the other weapon to gesture towards her. It makes her take a small step back, but he continues. “You're all strange. You do things that don't really make any sense, just because your heart "tells you to". You have no clue how hard it is to find people that are actually fun to watch. Calling you weird is a compliment.”

She frowns at him.

“...Is it?”

He smiles. "I mean, where else am I going to find someone with your situation? Missing memories, sneaking around, copying weapons... it's fun to see whatever you're going to come up with next." 

She bites the inside of her mouth. He takes it as a cue to continue.

“And,” his smile widens, “you’re the kid uncle Xigbar here gets to chat with the most, since I'm not actively supposed to be fighting you.”

“Riku?” She says, unimpressed.

“Well, him too. But he doesn’t have your patience, as you noticed.”

She clenches her jaw, and lets her hands curl into fists. She has nothing productive to say to that; not when it comes from him. Instead, she turns her attention elsewhere. The subject drifted away from Saïx, but her thoughts never followed suit.

“You said they took Saïx to…” She can't bring herself to finish the sentence. He seems to get it just fine.

“Yup.”

"Is he coming back?"

"In what way?"

The fact he has to ask at all tells her everything she should need to know. But she asks for an explanation. If anything, because she hopes she's wrong.

"Is my friend coming back?"

"I 'unno."

Anything else she wanted to say gets stuck on her throat. Her stomach turns at the realization that she might not get to speak to Saïx anymore. She tries to avoid the thought, shove it away, but it clings onto her like a desperate parasite. It all shows through on her face, in the way she looks down in thought. It’s all halted by Xigbar gesturing at her with his weapon again.

“Back to work. I’m not Saïx, I’m not here to chat with you all day,” he says, then grins. “Fun as it may be.”

She says nothing, but complies.

 

The following matches aren’t nearly as heated as the first one. She’s too busy trying to rid her thoughts of all of the possible worst case scenarios to get annoyed at Xigbar’s constant quips. She wins a few of the clashes again, though none with a finisher as strong as the first time, and she loses some of them too. And he makes sure she’s well aware of how many times he’s bested her, to the point she wonders if he’s trying to make up getting beaten by her back in the original Organization.

Just as she’s thinking about that, a bullet she didn’t see hits her in the ribs and pushes her into stumbling onto her right side. She puts too much weight on her injured foot, and falls to the floor. A yelp leaves her when she hits the ground. She tries to get up, but the pain in her torso pushes her back down. She grunts in dismay, and stays there.

“That’s win number five, if we’re keeping track,” he says, just as he teleports closer and flips himself upright again. He lands on the floor with a smug face, and doesn’t offer her a hand up. Not that she would take it, anyway.

_We aren’t. You are._

He chuckles when he sees that she's not planning on getting up, and lets the Sharpshooter disappear.

“Well, that’s enough for one day. I’m getting bored of this, so you can call yourself lucky and get the rest of the day off.”

She’s not sure if any part of today can be described as ‘lucky’, but she’s not about to complain if he plans on leaving her alone for the remaining hours of the day. She pushes herself up until she’s sat, legs crossed, on the floor, and preoccupies herself with casting cure on her ribs and many other places in her torso that got injured in some way or another. Her foot still hurts, even after all this time, and she suspects it’ll need some time to fully heal on its own.

“Poppet?” His voice pulls her attention back to him, and only then she notices he’s opened a portal to head back. “You coming, or no?”

She has somewhere else she wants to go to, but even if she didn’t, she wouldn’t walk back with him.

“I’ll go back later.”

“No flying the coop.”

“Duh.”

He chuckles at her reply, and turns towards the portal. Just as he’s about to enter it, something inconsequential crosses her mind, and while she probably shouldn’t ask him, she has nothing to lose. It doesn’t matter, really, she’s just curious.

“Xigbar?” She calls. He stops, and tilts his head towards her. “What do you see when you look at me?”

He turns around in silence, keeping the portal opened, and stares her down. He analyzes all of her face, but says nothing. The unusual neutral expression doesn’t last long on his face. A mischievous smile creeps up on him.

“What do you think I see?”

She narrows her eyes.

“If I had to guess… Sora?”

“I wonder.”

Her furrow of the eyebrows isn’t accompanied by a scowl this time. It’s just unnerved, cautious, but most of all confused. He looks at her, hands on his hips, and taps his foot once while he waits for her to say anything. She has nothing to say, though. He rolls his eye in amusement, and turns towards the portal once again once he realizes he will get nothing else from her.

“See ya, Xion.”

She doesn’t know why she expected a straight answer.

 

Though the sun is still an hour or so from setting, she decides to head to their rock. She waits a few minutes after Xigbar leaves and open a portal herself, retracing the path they took in the darkness early today until she can correct it to end up at her and Saïx’s spot. When she exits the portal then, she’s not alone in the landscape. By the very rock where they watch the sun set every time, she sees Saïx slumped over.

“Saïx?”

He doesn’t move, and her entire chest freezes. An eternity passes before she dashes to him, kneels next to him, and places a nervous hand on his shoulder. He’s unmoving. She uses her other hand to push some of his hair aside so she can look at his face. His skin is pale, covered in half dried sweat. But somehow, the thing that makes her heart drop isn’t the fact that she can’t tell if his chest is really moving, or if she’s too desperate and just imagining it. It isn’t the fact that the fabric of his gloves is scratched and almost torn at some parts, indicating he was clawing at the ground much like he was the other day.

What makes her freeze and stop breathing altogether is that his eyes are opened, hazy and unmoving, almost glowing golden against the shadow on his face.

“Saïx,” she says. By a miracle, she feels his arm twitch under her hand when she does. She swallows the gigantic knot on her throat, and lets go of him in an attempt of giving him space. He blinks, once, twice, and brings a hand to his face, all without a word.

She keeps quiet, watching him rub his eyes like he just woke up, all the while the relief of seeing him move at all gets drowned out in the feeling that something is horrifically wrong. She swallows it, pushes it away, but it clings onto her consciousness no matter how much she tries to get rid of it.

Saïx removes the hand from his face, and looks at his palm. He blinks, with a neutral expression, and opens and closes his fingers repeatedly. He raises his other hand in front of his face, and does the same. He then stares at both of his open palms for what feels like an eternity, and anxiety suffocates her lungs the longer he keeps quiet. He blinks, slowly, eyes wide in something that definitely isn’t surprise, and she can’t stand the quiet anymore.

“Saïx,” she calls for the third time.

He turns to her, eyes unfeeling and unmoving, glowing with _something._ The gaze runs into a blockage when trying to reach her eyes, like there’s glass between him and her, and she knows that’s not Saïx.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter gave me rabies can you tell 
> 
> ill be real i have no clue if i kept the cards consistent in the truco game but you know what youre encouraged to cheat there so. its fine.  
> I dont know when ill post the next chapter! i have a bit of it written already but i have to see how my writing juice (tm) is going :>!


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